Am I Wrong?
by lisbeth14
Summary: Ana has developed feelings for the one man she probably shouldn't have, the man that she has grown up with since being an 8-year-old. Christian was adopted into the Steele household as a child. With feelings reciprocated, they embark on a secret affair. But how will it effect the relationships around them when everyone else sees them as siblings to each other? Forbidden romance.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey guys.**_

 _ **I felt like writing another story, on something COMPLETELY different in theme. I don't know what anyone will think, or if it'll be a dangerous thing to write about, but I know by real life stories that this has happened. It's just a matter if you are comfortable with it or not? Is it too weird to write about? I'll let you decide if you would be wanting more on this.**_

 **This is basically a prologue of their earlier years (if it can even be called that), but next chapter, it will settle more into the beginning of the story where they are adults.**

* * *

 _ **Am I Wrong?**_

 _ **Prologue**_

 _ **(ANA POV)**_

I was around eight years old when my parents announced they wanted to adopt a new addition for the family. Someone that I could have as a brother or sister so that I wouldn't feel so upset and lonely about being an only child.

That was where Christian came in; My parents hadn't told me much about why they chose to adopt him, just that he had been in a foster care home previously that hadn't been working out.

Apparently he had a track record for being disobedient, rebellious and troubled, though I hadn't thought or understood much of it at the time.

I've never really considered Christian to be a real brother, seeing as we weren't blood related and we never truly became close until about three years later, when I was eleven and he turned fifteen.

I can still remember vividly the time he came home with my parents and we met for the first time.

He was tall, lanky and awkward, standing by the front door warily with his arms crossed over his chest, with light brown hair that wouldn't seem to allow itself to be tamed. At first, we kept our distance and he could sometimes be mean to me by sending looks my way that seemed judgmental and critical. He wouldn't talk to me at all, least of all bother to get to know me. It seemed like he had really hated me and despised me in some way in the beginning.

Then, things started to change.

He came home from school one day with a split lip, obviously from a fight with another boy at school. I had helped him with applying antiseptic lotion on his bloody lip as we hid out in the bathroom from Mom and Dad. I crossed my heart and hoped to die, swore on my very own life, that I wouldn't tell Mom and Dad how he truly got his cut lip. Even to this day, Mom and Dad still don't know the true story on how he really got the sore lip. They still mistakenly believe he had bit it by accident while chewing on something.

I guess Christian had realized I could be someone he could trust, and things started changing ever since that time. We opened up to each other more, and we'd literally talk each other's ears off about random stuff.

When I told him about a few girls at school that had been spreading rumors around about me, he was actually the first person to stand up for me and call the girl's bitches right to their face. No one had ever really bothered to stand up for me before, especially not a guy.

Everything changed even more for us when I started high school as a junior and he was in senior year. He heard a guy in his year saying that he thought I was hot and that he'd like to do some really rude stuff to me, and it had really set Christian off.

Christian and I were walking through the parking lot - he insisted we walk home together- when the guy whistled loudly at me and called me a few rude names while crassly cupping himself through his jeans. I'll never forget how dangerous Christian looked; He looked like a pure predator, ready to kill.

They got into a fight- right before my very own eyes. It was bloody and intense, and most of all frightening; the first ever serious fight I'd seen between two guys. Christian had punched him across the face while shoving him to the ground, and the guy managed to tackle him down with him on the ground, so that they were just rolling around, hitting each other. A teacher had to break up them up and it resulted in both of them being suspended for an entire week.

Mom and Dad were so angry when they came to pick us up.

I remember Christian had said, eyes wet and furious, cheek grazed, that he was saying rude things about me and that no one should say rude things about me unless they want to get their ass pummeled by him. It was the first time I think I fully acknowledged that Christian could be very protective of me. He really didn't seem to care about getting suspended for an entire week at all; He was stubbornly insisting that it was the right thing to do and that he was defending me.

It seemed all he cared about. Not the fact that he had been suspended, or that he was in trouble with Mom and Dad. All that mattered to him was that he had defended me, and that I was feeling okay.

I didn't think I could get over how violent and ugly the fight had been, though. It took me about three weeks to get over it, to stop seeing it play over and over in my mind to the point where I would have nightmares just stressing about Christian.

Things changed again, when I got my first period at sixteen. I was a late bloomer, and other girls my age had already developed breasts and experienced their first period and all of that.

My body seemed to change in ways I wasn't prepared for. And it seemed, neither was he prepared.

Nature had made my chest fill out, and I grew taller. We only had one bathroom in the house, so we'd have to share when getting ready for school in the morning. I had only just gotten out of the shower and had my hair wrapped up in a towel while I dried myself off hastily with another towel, when Christian had pounded a fist against the door.

"Are you finished yet, Ana? I have to pee."

We had used the bathroom at the same time all the time anyway when younger, thinking nothing was strange about doing that at all. I had let him in, purposefully avoiding looking in his direction while he unbuckled his jeans and used the toilet.

It was when he was running water in the basin and washing his hands that I caught his reflection in the mirror and the way his gray eyes roamed down the damp towel curiously. Then he had realized I caught him looking and he quickly averted his eyes before rushing out of the bathroom without a word. The way he had looked at me, the different gleam to his eyes, the strange expression, it had startled me and refused to leave me ever since.

I thought he had looked almost appreciative and like he thought I was attractive. I'd seen other guys at school look at other girls like that- both curiously and admiringly- and I was caught off-guard that he would look at me like that, because he never had before and it was strange, like he thought of me as something more than his non-biologically related sibling.

It kind of had made me feel extremely happy and pleased, the way he had looked at me lingeringly in the towel. Like he didn't think I was this grotesque cretin or anything like that.

It was probably wrong to feel that way, pleased that he had looked at me like that. But I couldn't help it, it was just how I felt at the time.

Another time, I had woken in the middle of the night, with a sudden intense urge to use the bathroom. Half-asleep, I had rushed into the bathroom, barely taking notice of the fact that his bedroom door was half-way open. It was when I had padded my way back out the bathroom that I had heard the funny noises from in his room. I knew Christian sometimes had nightmares about something, and I could hear him breathing funny, in a fast and rapid way. I had just assumed that he was having another one of his nightmares so I thought nothing of sneaking towards his room and peering in through the crack in his door.

It was reasonably dark in his room, but I saw his shadow. He wasn't in his bed, he was standing by the window. I thought maybe he was just simply sleepwalking, but when I clicked on the light and it illuminated everything, it occurred to me then just how severely wrong I was in my assumptions.

I'll never forget the way he looked at me, in wide-eyed shock and embarrassment. He hadn't expected me to come into his room to check and see what was up with him. He was just wearing his white long johns, and a hand was down the front of him underneath his pants. His face was bathed in a light sheen of sweat and he was breathless. His hand seemed to stop moving rapidly the instance I turned on the light and he glanced behind his shoulder. He looked so embarrassed and like he would have preferred nothing more than to run and hide away from me.

"Ana, what the fuck?" He had whispered in shock, removing his hand from his pants. "What are you doing in here?"

I was shell-shocked, with not knowing what to say. I had no idea what was going on at the time, being sixteen. I'd never heard of anyone doing this type of stuff.

"I... I thought you were having another nightmare so I came in to check on you?" I spluttered, realizing he was everything all at once; Mortified, embarrassed. Enraged.

"Well, next time, stay the fuck out of my room!" He hissed at me, shaking from head to toe. I was left speechless and confused when he grabbed me by the forearm, pushing me out of his room. "And knock beforehand if you are going to come in here!"

It felt as though my heart had split into two as he slammed his door shut directly in front of my face. He had never forbid me from entering his room before. It really had stung like hell.

The next morning, his entire demeanor had changed. He couldn't seem to look me directly in the eye and he told me that I might as well just walk to school by myself from that point onward. I felt as though he was punishing me; punishing me for something I never even knew I did wrong in the first place. It had really affected me in a profound way, how distant he had become with me after that incident. Maybe _even too_ profoundly.

I couldn't understand why I felt so cut up about it. We had never really been ones to care about personal boundaries and whatnot ever before. Sometimes he'd come into my room without knocking, sitting on my bed with me, laying around, helping me out with my homework and stuff I had trouble figuring out, because he was older and he knew more about it all than I did.

Sometimes we'd play around, where he'd tickle me incessantly on my bed, tickling me so much that I would almost pee myself while I flayed about, Christian above me on all fours while I shook around, laughing hysterically and begging him to stop. He'd tickle me below my armpits, under my gut, my feet, and there was nothing weird or strange about that. It was just something we did and enjoyed, and sometimes he'd even undo my bra strap when he shoved his hand under my shirt, really pissing me off because he knew it would really shit me. We'd even laugh so hard we both could hardly talk; we were that flushed and exhausted by it all.

But after me walking into his bedroom like that, it all had dramatically stopped.

We no longer played around like two foolish kids; He wouldn't even come into my room anymore, no less. He refused to help me out with my homework and he'd look annoyed with me just simply because I was in the same room as him.

When everyone at school started getting their first boyfriends, experiencing dating, I thought I was about the only one that hadn't. I hardly even so much as looked at boys. I didn't notice their cuteness like other girls, I didn't feel interested in them at all. Yet, the strangest thing was, the only guy I seemed to find remotely cute was Christian. He'd smile in a certain way at my parents, and the clothes he wore... I'd sometimes catch myself thinking they look extremely good on him.

I went through a phase of stressing about it, wondering whether there was something fundamentally wrong with me. _Do I just not like boys? Was I a lesbian?_ Really, after a bit of soul searching, I knew for sure I wasn't a lesbian. I didn't like other girls, but I didn't like any guys at school either. Christian seemed to be the only one I liked enough, to feel he was really cute and attractive.

I think I realized what was wrong, when I was about seventeen. The reason I didn't seem interested in other guys, was because of how I felt. Because of how I _truly felt_ about Christian. Spending all that time together with him, it occurred to me that I trust and know no one more than I do Christian. He really gets me, we know each other, and he's the only one I feel most comfortable with.

But how can you pretty much grow up with someone, only to learn that you _love_ them?

 **So, what do you think? Should I consider continuing or is the subject matter annoying/strange? The story will start where Ana is at college and she hasn't seen Christian in awhile, as he's out of college and doing his own thing in life. Does it seem interesting?**


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much. Hope you enjoy this chapter :) I'd love to know your feelings

* * *

 _ **Chapter 2**_

Today is the day I graduate. It's been a long two years but finally, its happening.

Kate, my best friend, has been stressing all morning. She has a Valedictorian speech to make. I have been living with her as a roommate in an apartment we share together ever since we started college together, so I haven't been home much. I haven't seen my parents or Christian in awhile, but I know I am supposed to see them today when they come see me graduate.

I check my phone while I get some breakfast, realizing I've missed a call from my mother. She is meant to come today and watch me, as well as Ray, my father. As for Christian, I still don't know whether he is actually coming or not; We have kind of lost contact in the past two years ever since we both moved out of the house. We'll call each other and talk every once in awhile, asking what's up with each other, but that's about it.

I redial her number, waiting for her to pick up. When she does, I can hear my father fussing around in the background.

"Hello, honey. Are you all ready and excited for today?"

"I'm anxious and excited, Mom. A bit of both, really."

"Oh, honey. I'm sure you'll do great."

"So you and dad are still coming?"

"Of course. We wouldn't miss this for the world."

"And what about Chris?" I ask hopefully. I want to see him, most of all. It has been way too long. "He's still coming too, right?"

Mom pauses for a moment, and I hear her ask Dad whether Chris is coming. "Actually honey, the verdict is still out on that one," she answers after a moment. "I know he's been busy working late hours lately. Surely he should come though. You two have always been particularly close, and I know he would hate to miss this. Maybe he's hoping to surprise you and spring up unannounced?"

"Well, I hope so. I would really love to see him."

"I know, honey. You and me both."

"Well, see you guys today anyway."

"Okay, honey. Don't stress too much, all right?"

I smile tightly. "Yeah, yeah. I'll try my best."

Once Mom hangs up and I end the call, Kate urges me to sit and listen to her make her speech for about the hundredth time; She has been stressing about making her speech for weeks and, honestly, I think the pair of us will be relieved once its all finally over. We intend to head out tonight and celebrate all our hard work finally paying off.

"How did that sound?" Kate asks nervously as I sit at the table, munching on my piece of toast while listening to her patiently.

"I think you'll do awesome, I promise," I assure her. "It sounds really good to me."

"And you're sure?"

"Positive." I nibble on the corner of my toast, smiling at her. Relieved, Kate musters up the energy to smile back halfheartedly. "Are your parents coming?"

"I'm pretty sure they are. Yours?"

"Yep. Both Mom and Dad."

"And what about your brother?"

It still doesn't sit right to me, hearing people refer to Christian as my brother. I really don't see him that way. I definitely don't look at him in a brotherly way, either- not that anyone would ever know that. "I don't know. He's been... hard to reach. Even Carla is having trouble contacting him."

"Oh." Kate smiles at me sympathetically. "Well, I hope he does come for you."

"Yeah, me too. I have a feeling he won't though, if he is unreachable."

"Hey, well. You never know, right?"

"Right."

Once both Kate and I are dressed and ready, my parents car pulls up; They had agreed to take us to the college campus, so Kate's parents wouldn't have to drive to the apartment as well. When I open the front door, there my mother Carla is, with a bottle of wine for us. She greets us both with a warm hug, and then Ray gets out of the car in his ill-fitting suit. Gratitude and love spills through me for my parents when he hugs me tight, congratulating me. I think he is still shocked that I'm twenty one and graduating.

"My God. Where has the time flown?" He says in the car while Kate and I sit in the backseat, Kate muttering under her breath as she rehearses her speech yet again. "Seems like it was only yesterday when you and Chris were kids. Isn't that right, Carla?"

Mom looks back at me between the gap in the seat with a grin. "Damn right. I can hardly believe it myself."

"Our own baby girl, Annie. All grown up already!" Annie is the nickname Ray has given me since I was a kid.

Once we reach the college campus, Kate leaves to go to where she is meant to be to give out her speech while I walk with Mom and Dad through the auditorium. It's crowded, and I can't help looking around, searching for any sign of Christian. I am dying to see him; I want so badly to see his face again. When I see my mother scanning the room as well, searching for him among the crowd, I realize just how much she is dying to see Chris too. It's impossible to find him through all the students wearing their matching gowns and caps like I am, so Mom gives up, letting Ray steer her towards where the parents are supposed to sit.

At eleven precisely, the Chancellor appears from behind the stage, followed by the three Vice Chancellors and then the senior professors. We all stand and applaud, and then it begins.

I still can't help glancing around the room anxious for any sign of Chris. I feel my heart sink more and more every time I do; It's obvious he isn't going to make it here today to see me graduate. It hurts a lot more than I thought it actually would, because we have always been close, despite all that time and distance away. I just always assumed he would be here, especially on a day that means the most to me.

Kate coming up onto the stage to do her speech seems to distract me and take my mind off how hurt I feel wonderfully. She does her speech so well and hardly lets her nerves show; All that fussing and panicking the last two weeks had truly been for nothing.

Once applaud rips through the room for Kate's speech, finally the long process of collecting our degrees begins. After what seems like over an hour, I hear my name being called. I make my way up to the stage, accepting my degree from one of my old professors. When I go to return to my seat, I catch Mom and Dad smiling at me in appreciation; The pride radiating from the two is almost palpable, and I can't help grinning back.

Once its finally over, we all rise from our seats, carrying our degrees with us. I find my parents again, getting hugged by both of them. Ray even looks a little teary-eyed for me.

"Any sign of Chris yet?" I ask Mom.

"Unfortunately no. Nothing as yet, honey. He hasn't returned my call or anything."

"He's probably just busy with work," Ray says. "Don't take it personally, Annie. I know how much you wanted him to be here today."

"It's okay and I know he is probably super busy," I say, forcing a smile in understanding. I can't shake off the hurt, though. I wanted him to be here. Why couldn't he have come?

I find myself eager to get home to take the ridiculous cap and gown I am wearing off. It's hard not to feel like a complete dork. I let Mom and Dad take me out for a celebratory lunch and drink, still without Christian. Then as they drive me back home, Mom's phone goes off.

"It's Christian," she says happily. "He said he was so sorry, Ana, but he couldn't make it in time. He's had an extra busy schedule at work. He wants to know if you would like to meet some time to celebrate when both of you are free, though?"

"Yeah, sure. It would be good."

"Okay, honey. I'll text him back and let him know. I think it would be good for you two if you met up."

Once I get back to the apartment, Kate comes in about roughly twenty minutes later. She is beaming and pleased over such a good reception her Valedictorian speech got around the auditorium.

"You were great like I told you. See?" I tell her.

She pretends to wipe her brow. "God, Ana. I was so nervous I could have died! Did you see how many people were in that room? I'm surprised I didn't choke on my own tongue, but preparing in advance definitely helped!" She finds the wine Mom brought over in the fridge, grinning at me. "Ready for tonight?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"It's so great, isn't it?" she says in excitement. "Finally, we can go out and drink to celebrate! We are totally getting hammered tonight!" She opens the wine bottle, finding two teacups for us to drink out of as we don't have proper wine glasses. "Pre-drink celebration, Ana?"

"Of course."

She hands me a teacup, holding hers near mine. "To finally graduating and getting our degrees!"

"To finally graduating," I sing back to her, and we clink our cups together. "Partying, here we come!"

* * *

The bar where we are at, its loud and hectic. Our friend Jose has joined us, and offered to buy us a round of tequila shots each. Combined with the two glasses of wine Kate and I had before we got in, I'm finding its a lethal combination. Already, I feel tipsy and more confident.

Jose is just offering to buy me another drink up at the bar when my phone starts vibrating. I check to see who it is, and its Christian.

"Shit, Jose. My brothers calling me."

"What do you want to drink next though, Ana?"

"Um, a gin and tonic," I say, first thing at the top of my head. "Be right back."

I try to find a quieter place to talk to him, yet in the bar, there is no such thing as a quieter place. The music is too loud, everywhere I go, but still I try my best. "Christian, hi," I say loudly into the phone, concentrating hard on hearing him.

He says something, yet its impossible to hear.

"Huh? Sorry, I can't hear you properly! I'm getting drunk to celebrate!"

"Where are you?"

"At a bar. I can't remember what its called though. I was really disappointed that you didn't show up today to see me graduate. I was expecting you to be there, and so was Mom and Dad."

"I had to work..." I think I hear him say. The fact I can't make out what he is saying, its the most frustrating thing in the world.

"I can't hear you!" I scream at him through the music, "It's too loud. Sorry."

"I'm coming to celebrate with you," I think I hear him say. I must be mistaken though, surely.

"What? Chris, I can't-" And he's hung up on me. Such an awesome feeling. _Not._

I shut my phone, spotting Jose holding my drink for me. I return to him, pushing my conversation with Christian aside as I shove my phone back into my purse. I bet I've heard incorrectly, because why would he do that?

As we find a table to sit with our drinks, Kate rejoins us from her trip to the bathroom.

"Maybe that wine was a bad idea," she says to me in my ear loudly. "I feel sick. How are you feeling, Ana?"

"Yeah, not so good myself. Maybe it wasn't the smartest idea we've had..."

Kate says something to me after stealing a sip of my drink, but I can't hear her properly.

"What?" I say back to her. "What did you just say?"

"Over there," she yells, pointing. "Unless I have fucked up vision due to being a little drunk... isn't that your brother? Or am I completely seeing things right now, Ana?"

I turn to look eagerly, following her gaze. _And oh my god, she's right!_

I feel like I am not even breathing as I stand from my seat, pushing past the crowds of people up at the bar to meet him. He looks somehow... different than I remembered, but in an extremely good way. I feel like I'm grinning widely like a crazy person as he turns his head in my direction, finding me. God, he hasn't changed at all, I don't think. He's still as handsome as I remembered he was and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at me...

It's been two years and, still, he manages to make me feel as though my heart is hammering away frantically in my chest in excitement. I cannot believe he actually turned up like he said!

"Chris! You actually came!"

It feels as though everything is moving in slow motion as I reach him, lifting my arms to hug him tightly. He hugs me back, resting his chin on the top of my scalp as his arms wrap around me, his body flush against mine. He even seems taller than I remembered.

It's only when I pull back and he holds me at arms length, inspecting me, that I realize he doesn't look too happy with me. "How much have you had to drink?" he asks me over the music, a tone of disapproval there in his voice. "I hope you have been pacing yourself?"

"But I just got my degree today," I point out, feeling more confident than I ordinarily do. Maybe its just because of the drinks though. "I think that's a good enough reason to be careless for one night in drinking a little more than usual. Don't you think?"

He's still gripping my elbow tightly as he looks past me at something. He still doesn't look very pleased with me, yet why the hell shouldn't he be? After all, I'm practically an adult now, aren't I? It isn't like I need him to look out for me and protect me anymore like I had when I was younger.

"Is that who you are with tonight? Kate?"

Christian's met Kate a couple of times when we were still living at home and she would come over to stay the night, so it hardly surprises me that he still remembers her. "Yeah, I'm here with Kate tonight."

"And who is the guy with her? Do you know him or is he bothering you two?"

"No, he's a good friend of ours," I explain, leaning closer to shout in his ear. "He's Jose, and we go to school with him."

"Do you want me to tell him to go away?" When I glance at Chris's face again, I realize he definitely isn't happy about this at all. He is frowning, almost glaring at poor Jose from where he sits at the table talking to Kate. I guess Christian really hasn't changed at all, in all that time away. He's still as protective of me as ever.

"Of course not! Go get something to drink and join us!"


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much. Hope you enjoy this chapter :) I'd love to know your feelings

* * *

 _ **Chapter 3**_

I wait around for Christian while he goes up to the bar to order himself a drink. I can hardly believe he is actually here, that he came tonight. It seems as though it has been so long since we have last seen each other. Really, it has been. Two years is an extremely long time to go without seeing someone. You'd think constant phone calls would ease the loss a bit, but it never did when it came to Christian for me.

I feel like my cheeks are in a constant state of burning as I watch him lean across the bar to relay his order to the bartender. I've been waiting for this moment for so long to see him again, and yet, finally, here he is. He hadn't come home to our parents house for Christmas time or birthdays- anything important like that, though I don't know why he wouldn't have. He always just used the excuse that he was busy working, which most of the time our mother got emotional about because she really wanted him to visit.

There are so many things I find myself dying to ask him about, yet I don't want it to feel as though its an interrogation.

I feel all jittery once he gets his drink and moves towards me again through the crowd, though I'm unsure whether it is just the affects of the alcohol in my system doing it to me. "How did your graduation go?" he asks me again, leaning closer to my ear so I can hear him through the music.

"Really, really good. Kate had to do a Valedictorian speech which she was really good at."

Chris nods once, taking a sip of his drink.

"Should we go sit with Kate and Jose?" I ask him uncertainly. He nods again, gesturing for me to lead the way, so I do. Jose grins and moves over so I can sit and share his seat with him while Chris sits in my now vacant one.

I watch Kate and him as they grin at each other, Kate shifting closer in her seat to make conversation with him. It's impossible to hear what they are saying over the rowdy noise in the club, but they seem to be enjoying talking among themselves. I feel my throat tighten as I force a few gulps of the drink Jose bought me down, observing them.

I have always had the faintest suspicion that Christian had liked Kate, in all the times she had come over to stay when we were younger. Sometimes they would go off into another room, excluding me from their conversations and whatever else it was they were doing.

One time I had confronted Kate about it when we were in seventh grade and she had assured me that she didn't like Chris _in that way_ at all and that they were just being friendly. She had just said she was envious that I got on so well with my brother, unlike her and her older brother Ethan, who fought all the time.

I watch as he rests an elbow on the table, leaning closer towards her with a smile, something bitter forming in my stomach. How strange it is that I still feel the exact way about them two as I had felt when we were kids. Like Chris is my possession, and my best friend has no right to get close to him.

I realize I have always felt particularly possessive of Christian. Especially when it came to Kate, and her potentially taking him away from me.

I suppose I couldn't blame him if he does like her _in that_ way; Kate has always been so much prettier than me. She always got the boys and she was always really forward and unafraid to tell them how she felt, unlike I was. I'm shy and reserved at times, while Kate is the complete opposite; She seems to be the type of girl everyone goes for, even Christian obviously.

I force my eyes away from them with some effort, staring into my glass and the liquid in it instead.

 _No wonder people become alcoholics..._

Jose bumps his shoulder into mine, bringing my attention to him.

"How are you liking your drink, Ana?" he asks me, his mouth inches from my ear.

"The drink is _so_ good, Jose. Thank you. It's exactly what I need."

"That's good then." He gives me a huge smile, showing white even teeth. "Want to dance?"

I glance Chris and Kate's way again, noticing they are still engrossed in their conversations. Their body language mirrors each other's; Leaning close to hear each other through the music, both on the verge of laughter. It's hard not to feel offended, no matter how unreasonable it is. I thought Chris came all this way to see me and celebrate? Why isn't he talking to me and telling me stories of all the antics he has probably gotten into over the past two years of being away from home? Doesn't he care at all?

It's either sit here in painful silent agony watching them two flirt, drink myself to death, or dance and loosen up and have fun with Jose. A big _Screw-You_ to Christian. I'll take the dancing option.

"Okay, Jose. Let's go dance." I force a grin at him, getting on my feet. "Let's go bust out some crazy moves."

Finally, for once I seem to get Chris's attention away from Kate and back onto me. He looks up at me questioningly but I purposefully ignore him, turning my back on him to give him a taste of his own medicine.

I squeeze through the crowd with Jose to find a space to start dancing. The music really isn't my kind of music to dance to; It's too fast, too heavy on the bass, but I guess its called techno club music for a reason. Jose and I have been friends for a very long time, so with him, I don't feel self-conscious at all. We do goofy moves together, laughing and making fun of ourselves, hardly caring about the people around us thinking we're insane.

When I glance in the direction of our table again, I see that Kate has gone and has left Christian sitting alone, sipping at his drink. He's watching us, I think. It's difficult to tell under the pulsating lights in the club, but I don't think he looks all that happy about me and Jose dancing together, heaven knows why.

I motion to Jose about heading back to the table and he nods, turning to dance with the person next to him. Chris stops staring, looking down at his glass as he turns it over and over on the table with his fingers. This time, I help myself into the vacant seat that Kate left, leaning towards him to talk.

"Where did Kate go?" I ask with concern. I really hope she isn't stuck in the bathroom, puking in the toilet.

Chris glances up, jerking his chin towards the bar. I spot her at once, waiting in line to get another drink. "She said she was feeling a little dehydrated so she went to get some water. I told her to bring you back a glass, too."

"But I'm not feeling dehydrated?"

"You _will_ tomorrow." He won't even meet my eyes. It's as though he doesn't want to look at me, like he is mad at me or something. I have no idea what I have done wrong though. Suddenly he shifts over in his seat, his knee touching mine. "So Little Ana finally has herself a boyfriend?"

 _Little Ana_. It's something he would used to say to tease me with, mainly because he knew how much it annoyed me when he did call me that.

Even to this day, it still manages to surprisingly get me feeling annoyed. I'm definitely not what anyone could call _little_ anymore, after all. I'm twenty-one now, practically an adult.

But boyfriend? I peer up at his face in confusion. He still refuses to look at me. " _Boyfriend_? You're referring to _Jose_ as my boyfriend?" I burst out laughing at the sheer idiocy of it all. "Yes, Jose is my boyfriend. Emphasis on the _friend_ part." How can anyone think Jose and I are together like that?

"Well, I saw the way he was looking at you. He definitely likes you."

"Yeah, as a _friend_. We're just good friends." I turn the tables back on him. "You seemed pretty preoccupied talking to Kate?" I hate how insulted I sound, how... jealous. I shouldn't be jealous; Jealousy is the very last thing I ought to be feeling, and yet, I do, and I hate it. "You two looked pretty cozy talking together?"

"She's _your_ friend. She used to come over all the time at the house when we were kids so _of course_ I would be pleasant to her." He meets my gaze finally. I still feel like he is pissed-off about something. "I came here just for you yet you went off with him and left me alone anyway."

"You were too busy talking to Kate?" I mutter under my breath indignantly. "You haven't even properly been talking to me since you got here?" This isn't the way I had anticipated it; Us finally seeing each other again. I hadn't expected any arguing to happen at all. "The instance we sat down, you were too busy talking to Kate so I thought I might as well go off and have fun dancing with Jose, seeing as you were too invested in talking to Kate rather than me. So why are you getting angry at me for?"

"I'm not angry at you," he argues back, his face softening. "I was just annoyed that you went off so I couldn't talk to you, that's all." He takes another slow sip of his drink, which reminds me to reach over and grab my own. I take a sip of my gin and tonic, my insides feeling as though they are burning from irritation. "How are the parents?" he asks over the music, our argument well and truly finished now.

"They're okay. They would really like to see you more, though."

"I know they would. I've just been incredibly busy with working."

"Well, surely you can find some time to visit them every once in a while?" I scold him. "It gets frustrating with Mom asking how you are when I haven't even heard from you myself. You should definitely see them more so she doesn't worry so much."

"Well, I'll tell her I'll see her soon."

"So what else have you been doing?" I ask, angling for more. "Or have you really just been working all the time?"

"That's pretty much it, yes."

"And what about... girlfriends?" I hate to ask it, yet I feel a weird compulsion to know. "Have you finally met someone? I bet Mom would be over the moon if you have?" _Me, not so much._

When I glance his way again, I see him staring at me for some reason. I feel my ears tingle and go hot. "No, no one really," he answers after a moment, making me feel relieved in a terrible way. "I mean, yeah. I had a thing with one girl but that didn't work out so well." He's being purposefully vague.

"Why not? Why didn't it work out?" _Oh, God. What am I doing?_

He glances away from me, uncomfortable by the subject. When he looks my way again, he shrugs. "I won't go into it with you, Little Ana. What I'll just say is that it didn't work out so well. I'll just leave it at that."

"Don't call me that anymore," I spit out. Once was really enough.

Chris seems only slightly taken aback. "What?" he says, his tone challenging.

"Little Ana. You used to call me that when I was, like, fifteen. I'm not Little Ana anymore, Chris. I don't like you calling me that."

He smiles faintly at me, his eyes glittering in the lights. "Well, that's what you'll always be to me. Little Ana."

"Yeah, but... you are _only_ four years older than me. I'm a full-grown woman. _And_ I'm also almost as tall as you, so it doesn't count and you can't call me that anymore."

"Says _who,_ Little Ana?"

"Says me." Catching him off-guard, I elbow him in the shoulder.

Playful anger flashes in his eyes as he rubs the spot where I've managed to jab him, like its sore, and I crack up laughing in victory. It was something we always did when we were younger; Rough-house around, tickling and play punching each other. Well, that was before things went weird and he started acting aloof towards me after I had walked in on him jacking off in his room. My face flushes at the memory. Maybe I even enjoyed the attention of him tickling me? Maybe I enjoyed him straddling me while he had his hand under my shirt on the bed, pinching the skin on my stomach? I realize now that I had enjoyed it abnormally too much.

In retaliation, he slips one arm around my shoulders, holding me to him in a firm, strong embrace, rendering me motionless while he manages to get a hand near my rib cage, tickling me. By the time I have managed to fling free and escape, tears are rolling down my cheeks from laughing so hard and I'm breathless. When I look at him while moving my chair further from him to escape anything else he wants to try on me, he looks mischievous and gorgeous, just as I remembered. It's like those two full years of us not seeing each other had never even happened.

Kate collapses in the chair next to me with two glasses of water, having finally returned. She eyes us both strangely. "God, still the same, I see," she remarks, her voice slightly slurred.

"What?" I ask her in confusion.

"You two _still_ haven't changed at all. You both are still play fighting and doing all that weird shit you used to do whenever I stayed over."

I glance Christian's way. He avoids my eyes, embarrassed, I think. He drinks another sip of his drink. Then he shifts in the chair again, leaning closer towards me so I can hear him properly over the music. "So what are you going to do now that you have graduated?"

"I don't know yet. I have a part time job, though." I haven't told him about that yet.

His eyebrows lift in surprise. "Really? Where?"

"Just at a hardware store near our apartment. Clayton's Hardware. It's kind of... boring though. And, you know me... I know nothing about hardware, but that doesn't seem to matter. I just stock shelves and use the register."

I look at him as he nods, curious. His hand finds my knee under the table and he squeezes it. Not in a sexual way, I don't think. Just a caring one. "And you're doing well with everything?" he asks, his voice soft with concern. "Everything is good?"

"Yeah, everything is... pretty good. Sure."

Satisfied, he removes his hand from my knee quickly, leaving me to miss him touching me. He reaches across the table with a hand, grabbing the glass of water Kate got for me. "Make sure you drink it," he says, leaning over closer to speak in my ear, his mouth almost touching me.

I lean back to look at him, rolling my eyes, trying to stifle down a laugh. "Still Mr. Bossy Boots, I see. Time hasn't changed you at all."

"Well, I'm older than you," he says, like it excuses him. "It's only normal." He takes one of my hands, forcing me to hold the glass of ice-cold water. "Drink it so you don't get too dehydrated. It will stop you from getting too hungover in the morning. Believe me, I'd know."

"I change my mind," I joke, obediently taking a small sip of the water. "You're actually ten times worse than you were when we were younger, Chris. You are being way bossier now than you ever were, and yet, I'm a full-grown adult now."

"It's like I said. You'll always be Little Ana to me."

He's just doing it on purpose to get a rise out of me, I know it. Belatedly, I realize I have to pee. "Well, _Little Ana_ needs to use the bathroom," I retort sarcastically as I get to my feet, giving him a look so he knows I'm not happy with him. " _Little Ana_ needs to pee really, _really_ badly."

Just as I'm stepping past him, he startles me by slapping me on my backside roughly with his hand. It sucks all the air out of me, and my head whips around as I stare back at him in confusion. Christian has never slapped me on the ass before, not even when we were kids. I know he probably means it as a playful thing, but I feel flushed. Flushed and overexcited, my heart racing.

Yes, my feelings definitely haven't changed, despite his absence. I know he will never return my feelings and, to him, this is just him being playful and silly. I'm just the girl he grew up with in a household, Little Ana. Little Ana, his non-related sibling. Yet I thrive and find so much meaning in what he is doing to me, in every little interaction. Maybe even more than he will ever know. I literally bask in his attention. I'm so screwed up. I know its wrong and yet, I can't help feeling it all the same. _What is wrong with me?_

I manage to get into the bathroom, squeezing past a group of girl's that are hanging around the sink. After I go, I wash my hands, then bend down to splash my overheated face with water. Once I get back outside the restrooms, I stop stock still as I see them through the crowd.

My heart sinks.

Christian and Kate are on the dance floor now. Her arms are around his shoulders, their bodies close together as they move. Their clothes brushing against each other, Christian's hands on both sides of her waist. Laughing. She is saying something to him, her mouth is close to his ear, and he is laughing.

I feel ashamed of how bereft I feel at the sight. I even feel like crying at the intimacy of the two dancing together, at their closeness. But why should I be so surprised? Everybody likes Kate. So why wouldn't Christian like her too? Why would he be the exception?

Suddenly Chris looks at me past her shoulder, his hands falling from her waist. Well, I _think_ he does, unless its a mere trick of the lights. And it's enough for me. I need to go, I need to get away. The pain is too much, too intense, and its a pain I shouldn't even be feeling, not towards him. Not towards the guy I grew up with. I see him remove her arms from over his shoulders before I finally gain enough sense to move, to turn and dart outside of the club.

My ears start ringing from the silence of the night as I wander past a group of people smoking outside. I wrap my arms around my stomach, squeezing tightly as a way to comfort myself as I focus on breathing calmly, my breaths coming out into foggy mist from the cold weather.

But of course he doesn't like me. Why am I reacting this way? Why should I be so upset? He's supposed to be my brother. Or, well, I am supposed to see and think of him in _that_ way. I'm just his sister, so of course he wouldn't like me in that way. It would be wrong. My parents would throw themselves into fits if they ever discovered the way I felt about him. Even Christian would disown me forever if he knew how I truly felt.

"Ana." Oh, great. Christian must have followed me out. "What are you doing out here? Are you feeling all right?"

He puts a hand on my arm, squeezing gently. I close my eyes tightly.

"I just felt like some fresh air," I lie lamely. "I didn't realize how tipsy I was feeling until I stood up and went to the bathroom. I'm fine, though."

"Do you want me to sit out here and wait with you?"

When I muster up enough courage to glance back him, he looks worried, his breaths coming out foggy as well.

"No, I'm fine. You can go back inside and dance with Kate. Don't stop on my account." There it is, again. I sound so... wounded. " _Little Ana_ will be perfectly fine out here all by herself. She can handle herself now that she's a full-grown adult, believe it or not."

Christian sighs loudly, lifting a hand to rake his fingers through his hair. I can tell he is conflicted; He doesn't know whether to stay outside with me, but he wants to dance with Kate, too.

"I can see that you want to go back inside to Kate so _just go_ , Christian. You are obviously really into her so just _go_."

I don't glance back to see whether he has actually left or not. But the sound of his shoes retreating against the concrete is evidence enough.

 **Hope you liked this one? So sorry for taking long to update this one! Is it too implausible that she would like him if they grew up together?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for the alerts and reviews, they mean a lot! Hope you had a great New Years and Christmas! I have decided I won't do a Christian POV (Because that would give too much away, really.) Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

I don't know how long I stand outside for, shivering. But after what feels like over fifteen minutes time, I realize just how ridiculous I am being in standing around, wallowing in my own self-pity, being antisocial. It just hurts so bad, though. I'm hurting, all due to seeing how Christian clearly has preference for Kate over me.

But really, what do I expect? These feelings I have- this jealousy over Kate and Christian- is irrational. I shouldn't be feeling that way, and yet, its impossible to make myself stop feeling it. I have to just get over it and ignore my feelings, though. I've been ignoring them ever since I was seventeen when I realized how much Chris meant to me, so how hard can it be when I'm practically an expert at it now?

Sucking it up, I inhale in deeply before heading back inside the club, folding my arms against my chest to still ward off that chill in the air. It seems to have gotten increasingly busier after having stepped outside for some fresh air. There are people left, right, and center, and you have to really squeeze your way through to fit.

I spot Kate, Chris, and Jose sitting at the table, my heart constricting. _Great, there they go again._ Kate and Chris, hanging off each other's words. When will I ever start not caring? When will I ever learn to let him go like I should?

Kate looks up, standing to come to me. I hope I look anything but how I feel internally. "Hey, you okay?" She puts both arms on my shoulders, leaning close to talk to me over the music. "Christian said you were feeling a bit tipsy? That you had to step out for some fresh air?"

God, she looks like a luminous Elf princess from Lord of the Rings. _Of course_ he'd like her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I assure her, smiling tightly. "I might actually call for a cab and head off now. But you're welcome to hang out with the guys still?"

"Oh. You sure?"

"I'm definitely sure, Kate. I think its best if I head off early."

"Okay, but be safe."

"Of course."

I pull out my phone, calling for a cab to pick me up to take me back home to the apartment. Kate will be safe with Chris and Jose anyway. It's too loud to try call them from inside the club, so I head around the table, explaining to both Chris and Jose what I'm doing. Jose looks deflated, like a wounded dog because I'm going, weirdly enough. When I reach Chris, I go to kiss him goodbye, but it ends up awkward. I accidentally go to kiss him on the mouth, _heaven knows why_ , but I change direction just in time to kiss him on the cheek instead. I don't think he even noticed it, but I feel mortified.

Once I get outside into the quiet, I call the cab then. It's a ten minute wait and then they arrive, the headlights on full beam. I think leaving is better than having to sit around and endure the way Chris and Kate interact with each other. I'd rather do anything else but have to sit through _that_.

* * *

The alarm wakes me on my phone next morning at seven thirty.

I slip into my pajama bottoms and pull open my curtains. Then I head out into the kitchen to make myself a hot drink to wake myself up.

I stop at Kate's door though, peering in to make sure she actually arrived home safely last night. Surely enough, she has; She's crashed on her bed, not even under the sheets, the heels and dress she wore last night spread out on the carpet messily.

I close her door gently before heading towards the short hallway that opens up into both the small living room and the kitchen to turn on the jug to make a cup of English Breakfast tea. That's when I realize Kate mustn't have come home alone last night. My heart freezes as I stop dead still in my tracks at the person sitting awake on the couch, a blanket thrown half over them.

It's Christian. He must have decided to stay the night last night. Either that, or Kate talked him into it. I can't help stressing about what happened after I left last night as he yawns loudly, rubbing his eyes. _Did him and Kate finally do something about their obvious mutual attraction to one another? Did they go all the way last night?_

"Morning," I say quietly, bringing his attention to me. Chris sits up straighter on the couch, the blanket falling down. I realize he's shirtless. "I didn't realize you ended up coming back here to the apartment to sleep last night?"

"Yeah, Kate convinced me into it."

 _Hmm, just like I thought._ That terrible and irritating bitterness rises in my chest again. I force myself to ask, "You want a coffee or a tea?"

"Please. A coffee would be great, thank you."

"Okay. A coffee it is."

I have to avert my eyes when he throws the blanket off, standing to his full height, stretching. He looks so drool-worthy that it makes me feel even more ashamed of myself than I already do feel over my secret feelings for him.

Feeling my cheeks redden, I rush into the kitchen once the jug flicks off, preoccupying myself by making our drinks; Christian, coffee. Me, my tea. I hear him come in behind me, barefooted.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" I ask.

"Sure, it was... all right. I wish you hadn't left so early, though." He gets the milk for me out of the fridge, handing it to me.

"Oh? Why's that? I think you seemed perfectly fine hanging with Kate all by yourself?" I close my eyes, berating myself, as the question comes out from my mouth senselessly. _God, what the hell am I doing?_ "I mean, I can't blame you," I add, trying to sound carefree, "Kate's the best company to hang with."

"So _this_ is where you live?" It's like he is trying to purposefully divert the topic. When I'm done with our drinks, I hand him his coffee carefully. He leans against the sink, still shirtless, cradling his cup in both hands. "It's not so bad?"

"The water pressures been playing up in our shower, though," I explain, putting the milk back in the fridge. "But aside from that, it's pretty good. The rent isn't that expensive and at least its closer to where Kate and I need to get to." I find I can hardly stand to look at him while he has his shirt off, out of fear he'll read something in my eyes. Talking about mundane things like the apartment seems to help with the nerves, though. "Whereabouts did you say you live now?"

"I actually have just moved into another apartment in Seattle. You'll have to come visit sometime. It's about a two hour drive from here, though."

"Did you ask Kate to come visit you at your new apartment sometime, too?" _Oh, Jesus. Seriously, what is wrong with me this morning?_

I muster up enough courage to glance his way while holding my hot mug between my hands. He's staring at me, with an expression that seems a bit like a _what-are-you-on-about_ look.

"God, I'm sorry," I mumble into my cup, taking a quick sip. "I woke up in a funny mood this morning. I think I'm still a little... _tipsy_ from the alcohol or something."

" _Why_ would I ask Kate to see the new apartment in Seattle?" He's confused.

I lean against the sink next to him, his shoulder brushing against me as he turns on his side to face me more."I don't know, Chris. Maybe because you _obviously_ are _really_ into her if last night's performance was anything to go by?"

"Oh, my God," he says, in mock-horror and, despite everything, I can't help glancing up at him again. He looks as though he is trying hard not to smile at me. "Little Ana is a lesbian. Suddenly it all makes sense."

 _A lesbian?_ "What?" I ask, stupefied.

"It's why you keep mentioning about Kate. It's because you are worried of me taking her away from you, isn't it? Jesus. What would the parents think?"

I have to compress my lips together to suppress a smile. Then I bash my arm against his shoulder in admonishment. "Piss off, Chris. I'm _not_ a lesbian!"

He starts to laugh, evidently teasing me. "I'm just kidding." When I lift my eyes, glaring at him, he stops laughing, trying to look more serious instead. "I just had a couple more drinks last night and Kate suggested I come back here to sleep the night to sober up before the drive back to Seattle."

Okay then. So maybe they hadn't done anything together after all?

"Why did we stop seeing each other for so long?" I ask; the very thing that has been bugging me for a long time. "We used to be really close and then... all of a sudden, you decided to move out from the family home?"

He sighs loudly, dipping his head to drink some of his coffee. He licks around his lips slowly before turning to look at me, meeting my gaze. "Well, isn't that what you are supposed to do once you reach a certain age? I had turned nineteen, nearly twenty. I couldn't stick around at home with the parents forever. I wanted to move closer to college."

"I know, but... even _before_ then, you were acting differently?" It's so nice to be able to talk to him about this, even if its somewhat hard to. It would be nice to know why he had acted so distant around me those past few months before he had decided to officially leave the house and not stay in touch as often. "Before you moved out, you were always really... cold and distant towards me? I've been wondering for so long if I had done something wrong to you to make you mad at me?"

He glances away from me, sighing loudly again.

"We went from being almost inseparable and close, to you basically glowering at me for just simply being in the same room as you? It was like you woke up one morning and decided that you couldn't stand me?" I stare at him anxiously, watching him raise a hand to rub around his forehead with his fingers. "Obviously I did something wrong back then to make you not want to stay in contact as much anymore, but... not _for the life_ of me can I figure out just what I did to you?"

"You didn't do _anything_ to me, Ana," he mutters, his voice barely audible. "The reason I decided to move out had nothing to do with you at all. It wasn't anything you did at all. I just felt... ready and as though I needed some distance to put things into the _right_ perspective."

"Put _what_ into the right perspective?"

"It's not important," Chris says with a shrug. "All you need to know, is that it had nothing to do with anything _you_ had done personally. I wasn't mad at you. I was more so... _mad_ at myself."

"Mad at yourself?" I shake my head, at a loss. " _Why_ would you be mad at yourself?"

Chris is obviously beating himself up over _something_. He refuses to look at me, his eyes narrowed in frustration. "It's not important," he repeats, deflecting answering my question. Then he reaches behind us to put his empty coffee cup in the sink. "I better get dressed and head off."

"Oh." My stomach sinks. _He has to leave already only when I have just gotten him back?_ "You don't want to stay for breakfast? I could make us something?"

"No, I better not, Ana." He heads back into the living room, striding briskly towards the couch. He folds up the blanket neatly, finding his shirt. He turns to look at me once he has pulled it down over his body. "I might just need to use your bathroom first?"

"Oh, of course. It's through that door." I show him, pointing it out.

He nods once before heading in, only closing the door halfway, not quite meeting my gaze. I still don't understand what he meant though, about being angry with himself. _What for? Why?_

For some reason I remember when we were kids, how we had no sense of personal boundaries when it came to each other. If we were still kids right now, I'd be walking straight into the bathroom, regardless of him peeing with his pants down or not. _That_ was how close we were. It's funny how you don't grasp how strange or inappropriate it was, until you are older.

The toilet flushes and I hear water running in the sink before he pulls the door completely open again, drying his hands on a towel.

"So I _really_ didn't do anything when we were younger to make you so... distant towards me?" I ask uncertainly, not totally sure I believe him. "How come you don't even go out of your way to visit the parents anymore either?"

"I don't know." He folds the towel back over the rack. "I guess it was just... hard. I felt a lot of pressure over their expectations so it just... helped to step back and have a bit of distance from them."

"What pressure and expectations?" I ask in confusion. "Mom and Dad have always been pretty supportive? They never pressured me into getting the best score I could on my GPA's? I thought they were always fairly laid-back with you, too?"

"I don't mean academically. I mean _more so_ in other ways."

I take a sip of my tea. "Like what?"

"Like... about being a good role model. A good brother."

"You _were_ always a good brother to me? You _are_?"

"Yeah, but the thing is..." He pauses, laughing bitterly as he shakes out his jacket before slipping it on, "I don't think I ever _wanted_ to be a brother."

I have no idea what he is trying to say, but obviously its tricky for him. I change subject. "So why didn't it work out between you and that girl you mentioned?" I ask, casual as I can sound.

He peers in my direction while fixing up his jacket, lifting his eyebrows at me. " _What_ girl?"

"You know, the one you said you had a thing with last night? How it didn't work out so well?"

"Oh, _that_. It only lasted about two weeks." He shrugs like it was nothing, like it didn't mean a thing. "She said that I was emotionally unavailable to her. Some shit like that, that I seemed... as though I was still hung up on somebody else."

That confuses me, because I know for a fact that Christian never had any girlfriends in high school. In fact, he never even so much as mentioned any girls he liked when he was still at home as kids. "I don't get it? You've never had a girlfriend before aside from her, though. How could she possibly come to that conclusion?"

"Fuck if I know." He comes towards me slowly, and I feel my heart start pounding for some stupid reason I don't even know. "I better make a move on."

"So, when will I see you again?"

"I'm not sure. No doubt the parents will try to con me into having dinner sometime soon. Maybe we'll see each other there?"

"Dad's birthday is coming up next month. He'll probably try to get us to sleep over for the full weekend at the house."

"Probably. I wouldn't put it past him." He smiles at me, somewhat ruefully.

I put my hand on top of his shoulder, leaning up to kiss him goodbye on the cheek, a bit too close to the corner of his mouth. Just like last night, it leaves me feeling awkward, because I know I would love to do so much more than just a good, old cheek kiss, and it's _so_ messed-up of me. When I lean back with my hand still clutching onto his shoulder, he remains standing close over me for a moment, his head tilted towards me. His gray eyes roam down my face, something strange glistening there. Warmth and affection for his foster sister, probably. Maybe something else, though its no doubt wishful thinking of me. G _od, I really need to get my head straight._

Then Chris whispers, "Take care of yourself, won't you?"

I smile tightly. "Always," I say lightly. "You, too."

I feel like an idiot, wishing for him to kiss me.

But then he does. On the forehead.

He moves away, avoiding my gaze as he walks out of the kitchen.

"I'll see you next month probably then," he calls over his shoulder. "Whenever." Then he unlocks the front door, pulls it open, and he's gone.

 **Hope you liked this one? Thank you! Do you like the story although its a strange subject with Ana liking her adopted brother? Happy New Year!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for the alerts and reviews, they mean a lot! I own nothing to do with 50 Shades, just a fan :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

When Kate finally wakes up and manages to drag her ass downstairs, it's after nine thirty in the morning and I am already onto making my second cup of tea. She looks more than just a little worse for wear; Her strawberry blonde hair is flying all over the place, her mascara from last night smeared.

"Hey, Ana. Morning." Her voice sounds croaky, as though she had spent most of last night yelling over the music in clubs. "I feel like utter shit."

"Yeah, and you definitely look it too," I tease, moving around to the fridge to get out the milk. I start making her a cup of coffee, knowing it will instantly make her feel better. "Late night?"

"Yeah, it _was_ a late night. We didn't get back here until at least three thirty in the morning, I think." She peers around the apartment, stifling down a yawn. "Hey, where is Christian? He came back here with me last night?"

"Oh, he left early. You just missed him. I guess he didn't end up getting as drunk as you did."

"Probably not." She grimaces. "He definitely had more coordination than I did. I _couldn't even remember_ how to get home at the time, Ana. It was freaky."

I want to ask more about what happened last night while I was gone, but I hold back for a minute. The least I can do is wait until I've given Kate her coffee. Once I hand it to her carefully, she heads to the couch and I follow her with my own mug of English Breakfast tea in hand. I sit next to her, resting my steaming hot cup on my knee.

"So, what else happened after I left last night?" I ask, trying to sound as though I'm not prying, just mainly curious.

"Not much, really. I wish you had of stayed out with us. It kind of... sucked being stuck with two guys. But Christian challenged me to the shot game, _which_ , by the way... he is impressively good at. He can handle his liquor shots well, that guy can." Her blue eyes widen in amazement. "We did the shot game, we... danced. Then he had to help hold me upright while we tried to find our way back here."

I can't help wondering whether Chris and Kate finally went all the way in sleeping together. Not that its any of my business, _of course_. Or _is_ it?

Kate takes in a loud slurp of her coffee, humming loudly as she falls back on the couch. "God, Ana, the coffees you make are always _so_ good. It is _so_ what I need right now." She sighs loudly. "But your _brother_... God. I just..." She throws a glance my way. "Never mind."

"What? What about Chris?"

"He's just _a lot_ funner to hang out with than I remembered. I'm so... _so_ jealous of you."

"Yeah, about that." I sit up straighter on the couch, bracing myself to ask it. "What was going on between you two last night?"

"What do you mean, what was going on between us?"

"Well, you both just seemed extremely... thrilled to be in each other's company?" It is so hard to pick the right words to say it. "Are you _into_ him?"

" _Into_ him?" she repeats, arching a brow at me. "Of course I find your brother hot, Ana. Even last night, this random girl came up to him at the bar and asked for his number." Oh, great. Of course. "Which he totally refused, by the way," she adds quickly, lifting a hand in the air. "But I'm _definitely not_ into him in that way, and he _definitely_ isn't into me. We were just... hanging out, having a fun time. Plus, he's a part of _your_ family. Far as I am concerned, any members of your best friends family are an instant no-go area." She sounds completely sincere, if yet a little startled by my question.

"Well, it seemed to me as though he really liked you?"

Kate doesn't even take a second to consider that. "No," she mutters under her breath strongly. "No, Ana. No way. I'm just so jealous of you two."

"Jealous? Why?"

"Because of how well you two get along and with how involved Christian wants to be in your life. You aren't even of the same blood and, yet, he acts like you are one of the most important people in the world, which is really sweet."

 _Yeah, but would Kate still consider it sweet once she realized how I feel about him?_

"Most of the night, he was basically talking about you, asking how you were and trying to get random chunks of information out of me. I wish Ethan was like that, yet he's far too concerned with playing his stupid X-box."

 _What? He was talking to Kate about me?_

Kate goes on. "Something else _really weird_ happened last night, though. It threw me off."

"What happened?"

"Well, we were just dancing to this one song and I moved my hand towards his chest- just usual, harmless dance stuff- and he kind of tensed up and wanted to stop dancing with me. It was really awkward after that."

"Yeah, but that's just Chris," I explain readily, murmuring into my cup before taking in a quick sip. "He doesn't like being touched, particularly in that area. He's always been like that. I wouldn't take it to heart."

Kate suddenly looks at me as though I'm weird. "Right. And you _know_ that?"

"Before he came to live with us, after the whole adoption process thing went through, he was abused." I still remember, like it was yesterday, my parents sitting me down and explaining his situation to me. Not all of the gory details, as I was too young and it would have frightened me, but just enough for me to understand. "He just doesn't like being touched in particular areas. He's always been like that."

"Oh. Wow." Kate turns silent for a few seconds, her face falling in pity. "Damn. Well, I never even knew that."

"We try not to tell anyone, obviously."

"Oh, of course. I won't tell anyone myself. I just... I had no idea he went through heavy shit like that?"

"Well, he did." I drain the last of my tea, immediately sensing the dire need of a subject change. "Anyway, I'm due to work a shift in about... another two hours."

I think Kate is relieved by the subject change. "Oh, really? Another day at Clayton's? Sucks to be you, huh?"

"I know. Tell me about it." I smile tightly, getting to my feet. "But alas, it is what us mortals need to do to survive in this day and age."

Kate laughs. "Totally."

She follows me into the kitchen, flicking on the jug to make herself another coffee.

"I do feel sorry for you, though. Especially when you are stuck working with Paul the Cherry Popper. It's like you can never get rid of him, like he's a bad smell that permanently sticks around." _Oh, God. Kate and her nicknames._

"Don't even remind me, Kate," I warn her, shuddering.

It isn't something I am proud of, but I ended up losing my virginity about two months ago with the guy I work with, Paul. He's cute, but a bit dim. It wasn't anything serious to me- it just happened, really- and it was purely an experimental thing. I think also, it was mainly an act to try purge myself of my unrequited feelings for Christian. It wasn't what I expected at all; Having sex with a guy for the first time. There was no emotions involved. It was just a fun thing. It's just a shame now that, whenever I see Paul and have to be in the room with him, he acts like he is replaying that night over in his head again.

It never took my feelings for Christian away, either. It only just somehow made them all the more intense.

"I'm going to take a quick shower and get changed," I tell her. Once I head into my room to collect some fresh clothes for the day ahead, as well as my basic work uniform, I realize I've missed a call from my mother. I redial, holding it up to my ear while I tread into the bathroom, shutting the door. She answers on the forth ring. "Hey, Mom. Sorry I missed your call. What's up?"

"Oh, nothing too important, honey. I just wanted to call in and check to see if you've heard from your brother as yet?" Sometimes it really annoys me, being the messenger. I guess its something I can't escape though.

"Yes, I did actually. He ended up driving all the way here last night to come celebrate."

"Oh, good." Mom sounds pleased as ever. "That is wonderful, honey."

"Yeah, I know. He seems... well. Really good."

"Oh, that's great. And you enjoyed yourselves?"

"Sure, we did."

"Great, honey. I managed to get reach of him this morning, thank God. I told him about the usual plans to come over on the twenty fourth for your father's birthday." It was a tradition Mom had started up ever since Chris and I had both moved out; She wanted us to all get together around Ray's birthday, to reconnect and share stories while we slept over at the family house for three nights. We hadn't last year, as Chris had been too busy working. "Can you make it this year?"

"Yes, Mom. Of course I can. You know I wouldn't miss it. I'll just have to take the few shifts off at work."

"Excellent, Annie." She goes silent for a moment, hanging around on the other line. Maybe she wants something from me? "It will just be great if we could all spend time with each other this year, seeing as we missed out last year."

"You don't have to tell me that, Mom. I know."

"Okay, well... I'll let you go."

"Okay. I'll see you guys then. Love you."

"Love you too, baby." She hangs up, finally. I let loose a heavy sigh as I start pulling off my clothes.

 _Great, another family tradition spent trying to act completely normal around everyone. Three_ incredibly long days spent in the same house as Christian; The house where we grew up in, a place that I always seem to feel nostalgic with memories at. I don't know how I am going to manage to get through it, but hopefully I will.

 **Hope you liked this one? Sorry if its a bit slow. :-) If there is anything you would like to happen then feel free to let me know! I know a lot of readers probably won't be happy about Christian not being Ana's first, but that doesn't make what she feels for him any less significant or cheapen the HEA they will eventually have (In my view, at least). After all, Christian wasn't a virgin when he first met Ana in the books. Sometimes people do drastic things to try and erase what they feel.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you so much for the alerts and reviews, they mean a lot! I own nothing to do with 50 Shades, just a fan :)**

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

Before I know it, its the twenty forth and I'm due to go to the parents house, as invented tradition.

I get all packed and ready by ten in the morning, then I send my love to Kate before getting into my car to drive over to the house. It takes about roughly thirty minutes. I'd also told my supervisor at Clayton's in advance that I needed the weekend off, so they were able to find someone else to fill in my shift for me while I was gone.

Once I'm there, I park on the side of the road, staring through my window at the house I practically grew up in.

From the outside, it doesn't appear as though it has changed at all. It's a two story, white weatherboard house. Some of the paint is peeling off, revealing its age, but it doesn't look all that different from how it had when I left. The apple tree out front that Mom planted when I was about ten is huger now, overflowing with fresh bright green apples. Just looking at the house, it makes me feel overwhelmed.

I knock on door twice before letting myself in while wheeling my carry case in, screaming out Mom and Dad's names to announce I've arrived. They both scream back, sounding preoccupied with something in where I think the kitchen still is.

The family house hasn't really changed at all, aside from how my mother has decorated it. The instance you get in through the door and into the narrow hallway, there are heaps of framed pictures on the walls, of her and Dad. Wedding photos, childhood photos of me and Chris. Most recently, my graduation photos that Mom must have gotten developed.

There are also cheesy little quotes on the walls that I haven't seen ever before; _Home is where the heart is_ , and _Wine makes everything better_. It is crazy how you can spend over a year away from your family home and yet, it hardly has changed a single bit aside from a few minor alterations.

I'm attacked in the kitchen by Carla, my enthusiastic mother. She hugs me tightly, kissing my cheek, while Ray waves from where he is hiding behind the fridge door. They must have done some early grocery shopping, buying wine and alcohol, and tasty food to prepare for Chris and mine's stay.

Once Ray has finished stacking the last bottle of liquor in, I'm attacked by him too, while he asks me how I managed on the drive over. Mom grabs my bag and wheels it upstairs for me into the room I had when I was a teenager, while Ray pours me a drink of white wine already for an early start.

"You thought to bring your bathers like I asked, didn't you, honey?" Mom asks once she returned to the kitchen. I have no idea why she is bothering to ask; She had only just texted me this morning, reminding me to do that. "It's a good excuse for all of us to use the pool in the backyard?"

"Yeah, Mom, I didn't forget," I assure her, accepting the glass of wine from Dad that he hands me. "You texted me early in the morning reminding me to bring them, so of course I didn't forget."

"Good girl." She smiles at me, pleased. "Well, let's go get changed and we can go sunbathe while sipping our decadent drinks of wine."

"Um, shouldn't we wait until Chris gets here first, Mom?"

"He has your father." She waves her arm in the air dismissively. "I'm sure he'll survive even if we do start without him."

"Okay then. Do I still head upstairs to the same room I had when I was a kid?" I ask, just to be certain.

"Yes, honey. Right up the stairs. I haven't touched anything, I promise."

When I head upstairs, it opens up into a left room, and a right room. Mine was left, Chris's was on the right. Just out of mere curiosity, I head into Christian's, peering in through the open door. Mom was right, and it's kind of unnerving; Her and Ray really haven't touched anything at all. Chris's bedroom looks just as he left it, albeit bed sheets changed and straightened. Even the posters he had on the wall of his favorite bands are still there.

When I head into my room, I am just as shocked by how untouched it looks. It instantly takes me back to childhood, where I would put inspirational quotes up on the door of my wardrobe with glue-tack. They are still there, yet more crinkled and faded with age. Everything looks absolutely how Chris and I left it.

I close the curtains and shut the door before unzipping my bag that Mom sat on my newly made bed, finding my bikini set. This was something I was particularly dreading after Mom had texted me about bringing my bathers along; Swimming in the family pool when I haven't so much as even gone to the beach in years. I'm not even so sure I remember how to swim. Luckily, I had shaved my legs in the morning, but always having been someone who is insecure of my body, I dread to put it on.

At least the weather is good though; It was forecast as over sixty degrees this morning- perfect weather, very appropriate for lounging around on the poolside. I get changed into my bikini, unable to help feeling embarrassed. I haven't worn a bikini in a long time either. Hopefully I don't scare anyone away.

Once I get back downstairs, grabbing my wine glass to take it outside with me, I find Mom already on a lounge chaise in her one-piece bathing suit, working on getting her tan. That's when I hear the noise from the front door.

I feel my heart pick up, beating uncontrollably in my chest when Dad exclaims loudly at someone. No doubt, that someone is Christian. He's finally arrived and yet, here I am, standing clad in just a skimpy, rainbow-colored bikini. I hold my glass towards my chest, hoping to look less exposed, when they both come in through the hallway.

My eyes seem to fly straight to Chris out of their own accord; He's dressed appropriately for today's hot weather, in cut off grey shorts, flip-flops, and a short-sleeved white T-shirt. He looks so good, like always. He has his suitcase in one hand, and a carton of beer in the other (for Dad, I'm guessing). Dad has always been a big beer enthusiast and when I see Dad behind him, patting him on the shoulder with a grin, he is basically frothing at the mouth due to Chris's thoughtful gift.

"Look at Annie," Dad says conversationally, "All ready and gearing to go for a bit of sunbathing with her mother."

When I look at Christian again, he's looking back at me now. He looks a little dehydrated from the long drive to the house from Seattle, his face unshaven. I notice his eyes roam down to what I'm wearing, to my bare legs, before he glances away quickly, making me feel even more embarrassed. He manages a nod and then that's it. He shakes his head several times as he turns away from me, evidently ignoring me.

I expected a warmer greeting. A smile or a hug but... obviously, I am not going to get it.

"Where do you want these, Ray?" he asks Dad, holding up the beer. Christian never really refers to Mom and Dad as Mom and Dad, I've noticed. He will either call them by their first names or refer to them as 'the parents'.

"In the fridge, of course. Where do you think they belong?"

I take their boisterous conversation as my cue to head out to join Mom, my ears feeling as though they are burning. I've been worrying about this entire thing for days, and finally, its come; Worrying about being stuck in the old childhood house with Chris, and Mom and Dad, worrying if I can manage to act normal around Christian... It's barely been a minute since he got in and already, I am feeling awkward. I hate that he had to see me scantily dressed in just a bikini with my arms and my tummy exposed, but really, why on earth should I care?

He had called me Little Ana when we last saw each other at the club, teasing me. But now me, wearing a bikini, with all my lady lumps in view, surely I have proved him wrong. It gives me a small bit of confidence, viewing it in that light.

 _Who's Little Ana now? How can I be Little Ana still when I have grown into a woman and have filled out, with breasts and hips?_

 _Take that, Christian!_

Mom stares up at me from her spot on the lounge chaise. "Sit down, honey. Sit down and join me." She pats the empty chaise beside her to make it more inviting. Once I lay down, stretching out my legs while taking a sip of my wine, she turns to me. "Any news?"

"Like what? _What_ news, Mom?"

"Like... any new boyfriends we should know about?"

I think this is why I sometimes hate seeing Mom. She always wants to know whether I'm finally dating someone. It feels like she is single-shaming me sometimes. "No, Mom. There is nothing new to report regarding my love life. I'm still single."

Her face falls. "I don't understand what is taking you so long to find a man?"

I wiggle in the chaise in discomfort. "It's because I haven't met the right person for me yet, that's all, Mom. I guess I'm very... selective." I have always wondered that if I could just get over Christian, then maybe it would be possible for me to have a normal, healthy relationship with someone. So far, I don't think anything has worked. Not absence away from each other or limited contact.

"Well, you're young. _Beautiful_." She goes on and on, counting off words with her fingers. " _Intelligent_. What's taking you so long? It just doesn't make any sense to me?"

"Mom, stop," I laugh awkwardly. "I bet you don't hound Chris about him being single the way you do with me, do you?" I know for a fact that she most likely doesn't. It's always different when it comes to Christian.

" _Of course_ I do," she assures me, taking in a loud sip of her wine. "I don't understand why Chris is single either. I don't understand what's going on with either one of you, why neither of you can manage to find someone?"

"Well, I don't know about Christian, but... speaking for myself personally, I'm happy not being in a relationship anyway right now, Mom." I figure out a way to change the monotonous subject, "Chris just arrived, by the way. He's with Dad in the kitchen. Maybe if you weren't so busy pestering me so much about my single status then you would have noticed that?"

Mom makes a loud noise in excitement, getting to her feet. She rushes back inside, probably about to attack Chris with a huge hugging session. She leaves me alone for about ten minutes while I lay in the sun, getting hot. Then I hear their voices as they all come outside.

When I sit up, glancing behind my shoulder, I see Mom interrogating Chris now as they stand outside near the door. He's holding an opened beer in his hand, listening to her. Then he turns to glance my way, and I feel ridiculously bashful again. When I look in their direction again, I find he is still staring at me. _What for, though? Doesn't he know by now that staring is incredibly rude?_

When Mom pats him on the arm before rushing back inside to find Ray, he shoves his free hand in the pocket of his shorts, strolling closer towards where I'm laying. He's still staring, yet its like he's trying not to be obvious with it.

He ends up sitting on the chaise Mom left, pulling in another sip of his beer as he looks out at the pool. He looks so handsome, so... gorgeous as he squints out through the sun. _When will I ever stop finding him gorgeous?_ I wish I could just shut it off like a tap.

He leans toward me while running a hand through his hair, lowering his voice at me, "Don't you think you should go cover yourself up?"

I feel my mouth go dry, so I take a hasty sip of my wine, squinting back at him. _What the hell is that supposed to_ me _an? Why would I need to cover myself up?_

"Why should I cover myself up?" I ask, shaking my head in confusion. "It's a hot day and Mom and I are going swimming in a bit." Offense flows through me as I roll my eyes. "Oh, and it's good to see you again _too_ by the way, Christian."

"It's hot out here, I just mean," he says quickly. "You burn quickly because of your fair skin. I just don't want for you to get sunburned."

"Well, if I _do_ end up getting sunburned, then that's _my p_ roblem, isn't it?"

Christian glances away from me again, looking back inside the house like he doesn't want to be overheard and he's double-checking Mom and Dad aren't within earshot. "You're not making this easy, are you?" he hisses quietly under his breath in irritation, turning back to meet my gaze.

" _I'm_ not making this easy?" I repeat slowly, lifting my brows. " _What_ am I not making easy?" I have no idea what he means. "I'm _just_ sunbathing, Christian. You're acting like it's so bad?" My voice rises and goes high due to my outrage. "Like I'm... hurting someone by sunbathing?"

He stands from the chaise suddenly, moving away. "Just forget it, Ana. You wouldn't understand."

I watch as he strides back into the house, his arms swinging furiously, leaving me alone. I am left absolutely stunned. Stunned and confused. I shake my head as I lean back in the chaise, still reeling from our conversation and the way he stormed off on me. What have I done wrong? All I'm doing is sunbathing and trying to relax to get through what is bound to be an awkward three days. _So why the hell is Chris so angry at me? What is he blaming me for?_

But once Mom returns, I push it deliberately to the side, focusing on talking to her. Then after deciding we both feel sunned-out enough, we climb into the pool.

As the hours close in and its finally late in the afternoon, Mom and I head inside to make a start on dinner, wrapped in our towels, our hair damp. Mom asks Ray to cook and season the steaks- being his specialty- while I offer to help Mom out with making the salad. Christian sits at the table, waiting, on about his third or forth beer.

We haven't resolved our argument from earlier. He's obviously avoiding me like the plague; He'll ask Carla or Ray questions, but never me. He tries to avoid looking in my direction at all costs. It almost feels like we are late teenagers again, with how Christian had treated me during his last month here at the family house years ago. _Hot and cold. Then hot and cold all over again._

Even after dinner is prepared and we all sit at the table together, spooning out salad onto our plates to go with the steak, he still refuses to speak to me or let alone look at me. I may as well not even exist.

Mom makes us all lift our glasses to toast each other before digging in, and its the only time Christian lets himself glance my way as his bottle chinks against my wine glass. It's so irritating. I don't get what I did wrong to make him treat me like this.

After dinner, Mom insists for us not to help her clean up so I climb upstairs into my old bedroom, pulling off my wet bikini to dry it on the clothesline while changing into a fresh, warm pair of clothes. Once redressed in a pair of jeans and a long sleeved jumper, I open my door, stepping out of the room before realizing Christian is standing in the doorway to his room, a beer bottle in his hand. He must have followed me up. Either that, or he just decided to check out his old room.

He must hear me, because he turns back to look at me. Then he smiles at me, in a way that seems both remorseful and nervous. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier," he says, kind of hesitantly. "I was just in a funny mood."

"Probably the house," I mutter under my breath, folding my arms over my chest.

He narrows his eyes at me, "What?"

"It's probably the house. It brings back... _a lot_ of memories. But you're forgiven, I guess."

"You don't find it even remotely weird at all?" he asks me as I come closer to peer inside his room.

"Find _what_ weird?"

"That Carla hasn't changed anything or has gotten rid of any of our old stuff?" He turns to look at me again. "It's _exactly_ as I left it when I left the house. There isn't even any dust in here, despite everything being unmoved."

"Yeah, I _do_ find it pretty creepy that the rooms are literally how we left them," I agree sincerely. "Mom even left your old band posters on the wall?"

"I know." He laughs quietly in disbelief. "I don't even like that band anymore."

"Well, good," I tease him, nudging him with an elbow to his stomach. "Your music tastes have definitely improved since then, I take it. Good riddance."

"Hey." He feigns insult. "My music taste was never _that_ bad."

I look down at the beer he is holding in his hand, belatedly learning how thirsty I am. "Can I have a sip of your beer?"

"No," he says immediately. "Why don't you go get your own drink?" He's straight-faced. I can't tell whether he is fooling around or not.

"Why can't I? It'll take too long to walk _all the way_ back downstairs and I really, _really_ _am_ thirsty? I'll just take like a _tiny_ sip?"

"My answer still stands, Ana. I said no." When I go to grab it off him, he's unfairly quick; In one fast movement, he lifts his bottle of beer right up in the air, arm held high, so it is next to impossible for me to reach it. Even jumping up and using my tiptoes proves useless. This brings me back to feeling like we are two kids again; Christian is amused, evidently enjoying teasing me, just like old times. "You can't have a sip of my beer because I don't want to catch your germs."

"Oh?" I tilt my head back, on the verge of laughter. " _My_ germs?"

He rubs it into my face in deliberately lowering the nozzle of the beer towards his mouth. He pulls his head back and takes in a huge, greedy mouthful, his eyes on nothing else but mine. He's teasing me, taunting me. Then when he's done, he pulls the beer away, swallowing audibly. The Adam's apple on his throat bunches up as he licks his lips, parting them. Suddenly I feel not so much thirsty for a sip of his beer. Now I feel thirsty for a taste of _his lips_ instead.

I grab him by both shoulders, roughly pushing him back through the entryway of his old bedroom. Christian's laughing, and I'm laughing, just like we're playing this silly game. Then, doing something I will most definitely regret for the rest of my existent, I ruin it.

I hop up on tiptoes, mashing my mouth against his.

I'm not sure why I choose to do it, or where the sudden impulse comes from. Maybe its the wine from earlier lowering all inhibitions, making me feel more careless about the potential consequences? I've been wanting to do this for so long, so maybe its that bit of liquid courage? All I know, is that Christian goes stiff and rigid beneath my hands resting on his shoulders, like he's surprised. Then he starts to move his warm lips against mine, once, twice... keeping up my urgent and passionate rhythm, his stubble tickling me as his arm curls around my waist, holding me flush to him and then, _just like that_ , he realizes what we are doing and it's all over.

He stumbles backwards, cursing under his breath, "Ana, what the fuck?"

The beer slips from his fingers, clunking to his childhood bedroom floor, beer slopping messily onto the carpet. Chris starts pacing back and forth across the room, swearing harshly under his breath. And I know its a big mistake then.

"God, I'm... I'm _so sorry_ , Christian," I get out shakily. I feel numb. Helpless to make him not hate me now, but numb all the same. Empty. "Please don't hate me. I... I don't know why I did that. It just happened!"

 _Why did I have to go and do that? What the fuck is wrong with me? Couldn't I have just held it in? I've been doing it for years and years now. Why did I have to have a slip-up tonight of all nights?_

Chris stops pacing to look at me, lifting both hands into his hair. He's disgusted, I know he is. I've ruined _everything_. He'll never want anything to do with me ever again.

"Why did you do that?" It's impossible to know how he feels. He doesn't even sound disgusted. More so, shocked than anything else. "Why did-"

"-I... it's kind of hard to explain."

"Then _try_."

I wouldn't even know where to begin. I can't. I shake my head, at a loss. _Where can I possibly begin?_

I start to cry and I can't help it. I'm the worst person in the world. "It... it's always been like this. I've... I liked you ever since I was around seventeen, I think. I realized it then."

He removes both hands out from his hair, sighing loudly. He deliberately turns away from me, showing me his back as he goes to stand by the window in his old bedroom. He peers out, both hands propping him. He thinks I'm disgusting now. I can tell. It's why he refuses to look at me. He's repulsed.

"It just... it never went away," I continue, not caring if he wants me to leave him alone. I just need to explain. "I expected it to after you left home and then I did soon after. I thought being away from each other would somehow make these feelings go away, but they... they haven't."

A sob tears from my mouth when he still refuses to say anything or look at me. I've officially ruined this; All those years together as kids, our playfulness, our bond. _Everything._

"I'm _so_ sorry, Christian. I understand if you don't..." I trail off, breathing shallowly. It's like my mouth won't say the right words. Nothing seems to be coming out right. "I mean, I don't expect you to... I understand if you hate me or you... you don't have to-"

"-Remember when you walked in that time, thinking I was having a nightmare only I wasn't?" He speaks over me, in a muted, toneless voice.

"What?"

"When you walked in that one time in the middle of the night to... to find me?" He turns to lean against the window with his back, at last facing me. He folds both arms against his chest, staring down at the floor near his feet.

I realize what he is trying to say almost immediately; That time I heard noises, thinking he was having another one of his nightmares. As it turned out, he had been masturbating.

"Yes, I do remember that." I blink at him, lifting a hand to wipe away my tears hurriedly. "What about it though?"

"It was... why I left the way I did," he confesses, his voice dropping. "You caught me, and I was embarrassed. It was the main reason I decided to leave. It wasn't because I wanted to move closer to college or... _anything_ like that." He lifts his head, peering at me. There is anxiety there in his expression, shame. "I was thinking of _you_ when I did it, when you caught me. It's why I decided to leave as soon as I could, why I decided to save over the months until I could afford to move closer to college."

I feel shock course through me. "You were... thinking _of me_?"

"I was." Christian swallows loudly, lowering his gaze from me. "I liked you, too. It... frightened me, just how much I liked you. When you... you saw me do what I did, when you caught me doing it while I was fantasizing about you... it was why I wanted to leave this house when we were younger." He takes in a sharp intake of breath. "I felt... dirty. Impure, like I was a... a disappointment to Carla and Ray. I shouldn't have felt those things for you like I did... so I thought time and absence would make it disappear. Carla and Ray expected me to be a good brother to you and yet, I think I stopped feeling like a brother when you were about... fifteen or sixteen."

"Ana?" Mom suddenly hollers from downstairs, startling us from our conversation. I jump, moving back, suddenly aware of just where we are and who is downstairs. _Shit, Mom and Dad_. They would flip out over this. It would destroy them if they even found out we were having this conversation, Chris and I. "Christian? Where are you two?"

"You better get back downstairs," Chris says, still avoiding me. "Make sure you act normal and don't say anything. I'll clean up the mess on the floor."

 **Hope this one was all right? Was it a bit too sudden, their confession? Liking? Hating? This is going to be a secret romance for a while until they feel ready to tell the parents/ready to face their reaction, as well as Kate's and everyone else's. Does that seem interesting? :)**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy this one?**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter 7**_

It's so hard to act normal as I tread back downstairs shakily to where Mom and Dad are standing around in the kitchen. Already, the three day's of staying over at the family home have already gone way out of control in ways I never planned.

A part of me feels so stupid. I shouldn't have kissed Chris upstairs and I regret it so badly. Yet, a part of me feels pleased that I finally have; I've been wanting to do it for so long. It feels great to no longer have to hide my feelings, like a weight has instantly been lifted off me, a weight that had been weighing me down for so long.

I had always felt so ashamed and guilty for my feelings, yet apparently Chris has felt the same way. He left the family home years ago and tried to distance himself from me in order to purge his feelings out of his system; feelings I have had for him ever since I was around seventeen myself.

My emotions feel in a weird tug-of-war once I head into the kitchen with my parents, trying to seem normal. There is no way pretending what happened upstairs- the kiss and Chris's confession- hadn't. It really had happened, and Mom and Dad would be so pissed off if they knew. I know they would, yet I can't resist feeling relieved that Chris has felt the same way about me.

"Where have you been?" Mom asks chidingly, while passing me another glass of white wine. "Was Christian upstairs with you, too?"

My mind works in overdrive to find a reasonable excuse. "Yeah, we were just both marveling at how little our bedrooms have changed since we were kids?"

Fortunately, Ray takes the moment to pounce on that comment. "See, I told you, Carla," he says. "We wanted to turn one of the rooms into either a guest bedroom or a gym, but your mother insisted we keep it as it was, Annie."

"Oh, shush, Ray," Mom says, waving a hand at him. "I didn't want to change the rooms at all, just in case you or Christian had something in there you still needed."

"Well, you can change my bedroom into anything you like," I say. "There's nothing in there that I need anymore, so feel free to."

Christian's feet clomping down the stairs makes my heart rate pick up a notch. Acting normal becomes increasingly difficult once he enters the kitchen. Ray hands him a freshly opened beer and they seem to make easy conversation, yet I still can't wrap my head around what just happened upstairs. There is a constant sense of panic there within me for if Mom and Dad were to find out.

I know they would be so mad. And maybe, I couldn't blame them if they were.

But feelings are uncontrollable, or so I've tried to rationalize with myself over the years. You can't help who you have feelings for, who you've come to even love. Feelings just happen. No deliberate act of separating or keeping your distance makes it go away. I've learned that firsthand by experience over the years.

I wish I could be more like Chris though; He acts as though nothing even happened while we were alone upstairs, like he isn't flustered or rather ashamed like I am. Or maybe he _is_ both of those things, but he's such a good actor that he hides it incredibly well?

Then Mom beckons us all to toast to Ray for his birthday again, and I probably go red as a beet when Chris meets my gaze while clinking his beer against my wine glass. Then Mom rushes over to pull us both in close, gushing over how great it is for us all to finally be in the same room together, which makes me feel tons more guilty over what happened. _Is Chris feeling it the same way I am or am I the only one who is?_ With him, it's impossible to tell.

Then it gets even worse when Mom gets into one of her emotional states. She starts reminiscing on stories of us growing up, of how Chris was always so protective of me.

"At one stage, I thought the pair of you might as well have been Siamese Twins," she says, her voice shaking with affection. "There was a stage there where we couldn't get you two apart, wasn't there, Ray?"

"Sure was," Dad says, chortling with laughter. He pats Chris on the shoulder. "And that time Christian got suspended? Remember that?"

When I allow myself to peek into Chris's direction quickly, he's looking no one in the eye. He stares down at his shoes, embarrassed. I guess neither of us are very happy about our parents taking a trip down memory lane.

"Oh, God, of course I remember that," Mom says in shock. "We were so angry at the time, weren't we, honey?"

"Sort of, but what did I say in the end?"

"You said that a real brother beats up another boy for saying mean things about his little sister, that its what brothers _should_ do." At that, Mom steps forward to squeeze Chris's arm fondly.

I can't help shooting a look in Christian's direction again. Still, he's staring down at his feet or at a spot on the floor, his arms folded across his chest. I think he looks annoyed; Annoyed with their reflective tales. He's uncomfortable. Then again, I really can't blame him. _I'm_ uncomfortable too.

Fortunately, things go silent after that and Chris smartly directs Dad's attention onto another subject he loves to talk about. Mom excuses herself to slip outside and after a few minutes of standing around, I grow worried for her, so I head outside as well to find her.

I find her standing by the pool with her wine glass in her hand. When I come to stand beside her, she looks at me, smiling. She seems almost... sad.

"Everything okay, Mom?" I ask her quietly. "Or have you had too much wine?"

"No, honey. Of course I haven't had too much wine." She laughs, lifting a hand to dab at the moisture gathering in her eyes with her wrist. "I'm just only on my third glass, after all."

I can still tell something if off with her, though. "Then what's up? You seem... emotional."

"Yeah, emotional probably _is_ the right word." She sighs loudly, staring out across the backyard. "It's just... nice, having both you and Christian back home for once. Especially on your father's birthday."

"Well, we're glad to be here, too."

"I guess its just sad how quickly the time flies by, really." She goes on, peering up at the dark sky pensively. There are so many stars out tonight, and with the moon reflecting back in the water of the pool... its beautiful. "Already you both are away from home, getting on with your lives. It just has seemed to go by so quickly."

"I don't think it has gone by _that_ fast, Mom," I mutter.

"Well, maybe _you_ don't. But _I_ do."

"Well, if its any consolation, you and Dad did a great job," I say, trying to make her feel better. "You were both such great parents for us growing up."

"Aw, thank you, honey." She slips an arm around my waist, squeezing me to her tightly as she smiles fondly. "I've always had my doubts. _Ray_... _not_ so much, but I always have. I'm glad that things seem to be going extremely well for both you and Christian though. It's all a mother could ask for." I have no idea what to say in response so I just hum in understanding. "I think its Christian I have worried about the most, though. I know you will do just fine, in whatever you do. So far, you haven't disappointed."

"Christian?" I ask with interest. She has never really spoken about any of this before; Her fears, what she worries about. I had no idea Chris was the main reason for her concerns. "Why?"

"Just with the way he started out in life, how... tough it must have been for him. I think that worried me the most. Were we doing enough? Were we... loving enough?"

"Because of what he went through during his childhood? The... the abuse? The foster home?"

"Yes, that's mainly it. I worried he would have it harder in life, but _so far_ , he's proved us wrong." She smiles at me. "He did well in his education and now he has a good, well-paying job. He's successful. And he seems happy, right?" She searches my face with her eyes, like she is wanting me to reassure her.

"He seems happy, Mom. I'm sure he knows you and Dad gave him your all, and he's grateful for that. He seems to be doing well."

"You think so?" she asks doubtfully. "He's really okay?"

"He _definitely_ is. You don't need to worry about him so much anymore."

"I know, but... there is a part of me that can't help it." She laughs at herself, sipping at her wine. "God, I sound so paranoid, don't I?"

"No. You just sound like a good mother."

"I did notice some tension between you two at the dinner table earlier? You barely even spoke to each other?" I tense around her arm. _God, does anything ever go past her?_ "What's going on there? You two aren't arguing again, are you?"

I force a smile. "Kind of, but that's really nothing new, Mom. We still have our little tiffs from time to time, just like we used to when we lived in the house together. Nothing's changed." _Except for me crossing the line and kissing him up in his old childhood bedroom._

My stomach churns with anxiety at remembering. At least he hadn't reacted badly though, which was surprising. He also admitted that he _liked_ me in the way _I_ liked him too. I don't know where we will go from here after he admitted that. Maybe we'll just remain the same? It's probably better if we did remain as we are now, that way we wouldn't be hurting Mom and Dad in the long run. It would be hard, but its probably the only thing we can do.

Mom checks the time on her watch. "I might head to bed and get some sleep in, honey. It's already eleven thirty at night and I bet I'm becoming such dreadful company."

"Nonsense, Mom. You're really not."

"Still, I'll call it a day for me." She smiles, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek goodnight. Then she heads inside to say goodnight to Ray and Chris. I hear her talking to them, and then Ray mentions about getting an early night in himself. He yells goodnight to me from inside and I yell back before deciding to sit on one of the lounge chaises by the pool. Even although its dark, its still reasonably warm and muggy outside.

"Well, that wasn't unbearable at all," I remark to Christian jokingly once he finally decides to come out and join me. He helps himself to the corner of the lounge chaise I'm sitting in, leaning back to smile at me.

"Unbearable was an understatement."

"Are you regretting coming here for the weekend now?" I ask him, knowing he is. It's obvious he wishes he never came now.

"In some ways I am, sure. I hated what happened inside."

"What happened?"

"You know..." He cringes at me before taking a sip of his beer. "All those stories. I felt like shooting myself in the head."

I laugh, grinning at him. "I know. You looked so mortified."

"It wasn't that at all," he mutters quietly, lifting his head to look up at the scattering of stars, the moon. "It was just... bullshit."

I sense he is angry about something, yet I'm not totally sure what. "Want to play a game?" I ask, attempting to brighten his mood.

It seems it does the trick, because he finally glances down at me again, raising his eyebrows. "What kind of a game?"

"A drinking game," I suggest at the top of my head. "Have you ever played 'Never Have I Ever'?"

"I think so. Isn't that the one where you take a drink after a question has been asked? If it's a yes and you've done it, then you have to drink?"

"Yep, that's the one. Want to?"

He shrugs, then shifts on the chaise to face me more. "Might as well, seeing as there isn't much else to do right now."

"Okay then. Who goes first?"

"You ask first," Chris says immediately. "Ladies first."

"Okay." It's silly, playing a pointless game like this, but it should be fun. I take a second to think of a good question, then come up with, "Never have I ever stolen anything?"

Chris stares at me for a moment, then he lifts the nozzle of his beer to his lips, pulling in a sip. I am incredulous; Chris doesn't seem to be the type to steal anything. "I stole a few things from work once," he explains, looking amused. "It was little things. Like a pen. So you haven't?"

"No, I'm good which is more than I can say for you, you thief," I tease before waiting for his question.

Chris straightens up, thinking of a good question himself. "Okay. Never have I ever had sex on the first date?"

It's a hard one to decide. I had sex with Paul Clayton, my work colleague, yet it wasn't really considered a date. I drink anyway, feeling my cheeks redden when Chris doesn't.

His face darkens in outrage. "You've had sex?" he hisses in disbelief. "With who?"

It really isn't something I am comfortable speaking about, to him especially of all people. "I didn't realize that when you drank that it meant you had to elaborate?"

"Well, I did about the stealing thing, didn't I?" Shit, I think he is truly pissed off, which is ridiculous. _Why should he be allowed to be pissed off at me? What, am I supposed to be this precious virginal person in his eyes?_

"I slept with a guy I work with," I explain, caving in, "but it wasn't really... a date thing. It just happened." Uncomfortable by his scrutiny, I try to distract him. "Okay, so... now it's my turn. Never have I ever-"

"-So what? You still work with the guy?"

He's obviously not going to drop it. "Yeah, I still work with him. But it was a one-off thing, and really, it was a mistake. I regretted it more than anything else, but... I can't deny that it wasn't a good experience to learn from."

"Were you in love with him? _Are_ you?"

"No, I don't love him at all. I didn't do it because of that." The shitty, irritated look on his face grates at me. "Why are you looking so pissed off for? I'm sure you've had sex a couple of times, right?"

He glances away from me for a second, his jaw clenching. He sighs loudly once he returns his gaze to me again. "Sure, I have."

"Then why can't I? What, you don't like me anymore now that I have?"

He lifts a hand, raking his fingers slowly through his hair. Then he abruptly stands to his feet. "I'm done with this silly fucking game now," he mutters under his breath, and then he storms off inside, leaving me alone to simper at his behavior.

 _Unbelievable._ But it isn't my problem if he can't handle to hear the truth.

After sitting outside for about ten minutes more after he left, I decide to head in and get to bed myself. I collect all the empty beer bottles in the kitchen, tossing them into the trash to make the room more cleaner for Mom once she wakes up tomorrow, then I head upstairs, noticing Chris's door to the room he is sleeping in is completely closed.

I still don't understand his reaction, but I push it aside, grabbing my pajamas out from where I have packed them in my case. I've just slipped out of my jeans and am in my bra and underwear when suddenly my door opens and there he is, Chris, standing there. He doesn't look as pissed off as he did so at least that's something.

"What?" I demand impatiently, fighting the urge to cover myself up when he steps in, closing my door carefully back up. "What now, Chris?"

He starts walking towards me in a slow, non-threatening way at least, still dressed in his cut-off shorts and white T-shirt. He comes to a stop once he is standing directly in front of me, and I watch as his gray eyes drift lower, to my bra, my bare stomach, my underwear, legs, then back up again. There is something there in his expression that I can't quite work out. Something... different that has never been there before; A bit like something is silently smoldering within him, something dying to be released.

"What do you want, Chris?" I whisper, swallowing down against a dry lump that has formed in my throat.

He hesitates, before asking quietly, "Are you on the pill?"

 _What? The pill?_ "No, I don't need to go on it though. I had an Implanon birth control put in two months ago because Kate wanted it done so we agreed to get it together. Why?"

"You _know_ why."

"Why?"

He doesn't answer, but his next actions prove he doesn't need to. Chris raises his hands, capturing my face in them, and then he is leaning down and kissing me. His lips are demanding and desperate, rough and open-mouthed. For a moment I'm shocked and stunned into stillness, until I realize what he is doing and how much I want it too.

I open my mouth to him, and he slips his tongue in. His hands release my face and he uses them for other things instead; He starts gliding his fingers down each shoulder, trailing downwards. His fingers follow my bra straps, then he goes even lower, running just his fingertips down my sides and past my belly button in a strangely exciting and menacing way that has my heart pumping. Then, without warning, one hand goes down and up between my legs, his thumb stroking me vigorously through my underwear, creating tantalizing friction at my folds.

I'm horrified by the instant tingling heat and wetness through the fabric of my underwear at the spot he is stroking repetitively with a flicking motion of his thumb, and then its like a bucket of cold water has been thrown over me as he leans back suddenly, stopping our kissing to glance down at me. His eyes hold mine fervently and I know what I want then. I know what I want, and I think I can tell its what he wants as well. But... unfortunately, there are other things to consider.

"Mom and Dad are downstairs," I force myself to warn him, my voice croaky with lust.

Just like that, Chris stops stroking me, and I very nearly cry out from the absence of him doing it when he lets his hand and thumb fall away from me. "Do you want this to stop?" he asks, searching my face. "Because _your_ parents are sleeping in the room downstairs?"

"They're _your_ parents too," I remind him, affronted. "And I think we both know they wouldn't be happy about this if they ever knew?"

He sighs loudly, torn. He lifts an arm, tracing his fingers lightly around my collar bone. Then he nods once. "Your face is enough to already know the answer," he breathes harshly. "You don't want this."

It's like a slap to the face when he steps back to leave the room, his face pinched with annoyance.

"Chris, wait!" I grab him by the wrist, guiding his hand down towards where he was stroking it before, pressing his knuckles into the fabric of my underwear, so he feels the warmth, the heat of how much I want this. He gives out a hissing intake of breath as he turns to meet my gaze again, hunger plain to see in his expression for me. " _See_ how much I want it? Can you feel just _how much_ I want it with you?"

I know he can. His gray eyes drop down towards where his hand is before he slowly brings them back up to my face again. He licks his lips. "You want this?"

"I do. I just... I _know_ how bad things can go if they ever find out. You do too, don't you? This will literally destroy them."

"This is how much I care for _your_ parents," Chris mutters defiantly, one hand coming up to my hair, gathering the strands into a fist as he bends down to capture my lips with his again, rubbing his knuckles so roughly through my underwear at my most intimate place that I can't help the moan that escapes me.

I know he doesn't truly mean that, though. He does truly care about the parents. But for the sake of it only being for one night, I push those concerns aside, focusing on just letting my feelings for Chris take over.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank** **you so much! Hope you enjoy this one :) Angst ahead but it will be mended by next chapter, I promise.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

We take it slowly, even although I feel ready and aching for it. It's amazing I am able to take it slow with him, to allow Christian to set the pace, because I feel I have wanted this to happen for so long, ever since I had fully understood my feelings for him and just how deeply they went.

Christian grabs the neck of his shirt, pulling it up and off his body, and he has never looked more handsome or beautiful to me. Even with the scars marring his chest; The ones he told me about when we were younger, the ones his biological mother's friend- the pimp boyfriend- gave him. The three round cigarette burns, on various places on his chest, the light smattering of hair there just slightly covering them. I've seen him shirtless a few times when we were kids, but it pales in comparison to how he looks now. He looks all man, toned and muscular. I can tell he has been taking good care of his body over the years.

Then he slowly moves his hands towards the front button on his shorts, undoing them, and it settles into my system just how real this truly is getting.

Not in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought we would actually be doing this. I probably ought to feel ashamed or dirty- especially with our parents sleeping just only right downstairs- and yet, I find guilt or anything close to it is hardly the thing I feel. I feel excited. Breathless and awestruck, even, as I watch him pull down his shorts and step out of them, baring himself to me. He isn't wearing any underwear, I discover; He goes commando. Liquid desire courses throughout me when he starts fondling himself, moving his hand up and down his length, his eyes on nothing else but mine, getting himself hard and ready. Apparently Kate's idea for the birth control implant in my arm will come in handy, after all.

This feels right, somehow. Christian and me.

I think this is how it ought to have always been. Christian and me, together, doing this. Not in the brother and sister role Mom and Dad assigned us as, not what they expect us to be.

I'll regret this in the morning, sure. But as for right now, I just want to be present in the moment and enjoy it as much as humanly possible. The fact that I have done this before, with Paul from work, makes me feel less nervous. I know what I'm expecting, yet this time, it is bound to be hugely different.

It's going to be with someone I have wanted for years now. Someone I feel a lifetime of emotions for, rather than how it was with Paul, where we did it out of some experimental and random whim.

He steps towards me, naked, completely exposed, his eyes on nothing else but mine. "Let's get this off," he whispers softly. "I want to see you, finally." He slips his fingers underneath both my bra straps, peeling them down slowly, gently. Then I turn on my side, allowing him to undo the clasp at the back. My bra comes off, and I let it fall down to the ground without care.

I don't feel nervous or shy about my body at all, surprisingly. I have always felt insecure, and I expect to feel it now. Yet it's the person I am doing this with that makes me feel so bold; It's Chris, and I feel nothing but comfortable getting naked in front of him, because I know him. I've known him realistically for most of my life. I can trust him. He can see me.

Behind me, he bends down, placing feather-soft kisses around my back, and my stomach clenches. I feel my breathing go shallow and unsteady- and I think I can hear him breathing in the same way as well.

"You're so beautiful," Christian breathes into my skin hotly, making me smile. "Then again, I think I've always thought that. It may be... wrong of me, but I don't care."

"I don't see anything wrong about this at all," I admit, and his lips leave my skin as I bend slightly, enough to yank my underwear down, stepping out of them. Now we're both completely naked. Still, it feels so right. Like how it should have always been between us. "Aside from how Mom and Dad will react if they find out, of course. I don't think we can tell them." In a split second, I'm afraid and worried of how I know they will feel if they ever found out what we are doing with each other. "They can never find out, Chris."

I turn back to look at him, watching his eyes roam down my body slowly. He looks like a man in awe. His eyes are gleaming with appreciation; his face going slack with what seems to be desire.

"Then we don't need to tell them," he assures me. "Not if they don't need to know."

"I know, but..." The anxiety makes my voice go funny; It's too high and shaky, "It will feel wrong, lying to them. It'll hurt them."

Christian sighs loudly, clasping my hips in his hands, squeezing them in a way that feels strongly comforting. "Then we don't need to do this if you are having second thoughts that badly? If you don't want to, then I'll... I'll understand."

That's the thing, though; We have already gotten this far, and how much I have always wanted this, how badly I want him now that we are both already halfway there and are exposed to each other they way we are, it overrides anything else. Him, standing before me, naked, with an erection... I want him _so_ badly. And it seems to me that he wants me so badly right now, too. How can we stop when its already far too late?

"Why were you so mad at me earlier when I confessed about having sex with that guy from work?" I ask him, because its been bugging me, not knowing. "Is it really that much of a problem to you that I have already done it, Chris?"

"No, of course not. I don't really care who you've been with."

"But then I still don't get your reaction? You seemed really pissed off with me?"

"I just..." He hesitates, licking his lips. "The thought of you, being with someone else, it's... hard for me."

"Hard for you?" I repeat in confusion. "Why would it be hard for you? I mean, you've been with other girls yourself, haven't you?"

"I have," he admits reluctantly. "I've slept with... two girls."

"So _there_." I almost laugh out loud in glee. "You've slept with other people yourself, you hypocrite."

"It's not like that." He sighs loudly in frustration, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh? So then how's it like?"

"I just... I want you all to myself. I think I've always been like that."

 _He wants me all to himself?_

"Like... when we were younger, that time I got in a fight with that asshole at school because he said rude things about you. I think that was truly why I punched him and went so overboard the way I did."

I had always been baffled over how strong Chris's reaction over that had been. _Hmm, now I know why. Suddenly it all makes sense._

My eyes widen in shock, yet I'm both sickly amused and thrilled. "You were jealous? Even back then when we were younger?"

He nods once, pressing his lips together into a tight line to hide a smile. "Even then. Didn't you notice?"

"I just thought you were just being simply protective over me, as a brother; not that you were actually jealous?"

"Well, I was," he confesses, though not too proudly. "I think I have always wanted you all to myself, Ana. Especially when we were younger. It was why I was always so relieved that you never mentioned any boys that you had liked..." He shakes his head, something foreboding there in his eyes. "If you had, who knows what I would have been capable of doing?"

 _Well, damn. What a revelation._

"Remember last month when you came to celebrate my graduation at the club with Kate there as well?" I remind him, deciding to be honest myself.

"Of course I do."

"Well, maybe we aren't so different after all?"

He tilts his head to the side, squinting at me in confusion. "What do you mean?"

It's embarrassing to admit it, but I may as well. "I didn't like how close you and Kate seemed. I was... jealous myself last month. Didn't that occur to you as being the real reason as to how I was reacting the way I was?" I feel my cheeks redden when he seems shocked, uncomprehending. "It was the real reason I reacted the way I did, though I tried to ignore it and hide it from you or Kate finding out. You aren't the only one who gets jealous."

"So you were jealous over me and Kate?" He asks in bewilderment.

"I actually was. You two seemed... particularly close, and I didn't like that one bit."

"Well, you never actually had to worry about anything." He brings up a hand to rake his fingers through my long hair tenderly.

"I didn't?" I ask doubtfully. "You don't like Kate _in that way_ even just the slightest bit?"

I was so sure they liked each other mutually, especially with the way Chris was hanging off Kate's every word and was paying more attention to her than me. Plus, Kate is so much better than me, in every possible way.

"I don't like Kate at all in any way other than just a friend. You are the only one I have ever... wanted, though of course, I admit I've pushed that aside to sleep with two other women. But I had to, at the time. I didn't think you would ever feel the same way."

"I'm not mad that you slept with two girls, especially when I'm not so innocent myself."

I grow tired of just talking. Making the first move, I step closer, placing my hands on his shoulders, leaning up to kiss him. He parts his lips, and I slide my tongue in, basking in the delicious warmth of his mouth as his tongue rubs up against mine in a quick, urgent rhythm. Once my tongue is back in my own mouth, he tilts his head, pushing his into mine, teasing me rubbing his tongue against mine then retreating it, only to do it again, several times.

Still kissing, he pushes me backwards with both hands firm on my hips, and then our kissing ends when I fall back blindly onto the mattress of my old bed. I think he's going to crawl over it on top of me to finally get inside of me, only he doesn't. He surprises me by standing above me, watching me laid out before him on top of the covers nude, and then he bends down, placing both hands around my left foot by the ankle. The instance his mouth touches my big toe as he opens his mouth, scraping his teeth against it gently, I arch uncontrollably off the mattress, even more hot and ready for him.

Christian takes it slow, prolonging it, moving his lips up towards my knee in a leisurely slow pace. I can't help moving around, my chest heaving. When he reaches just above my kneecap, he uses his teeth, scraping them against my skin in a way that is unbelievably sensual.

It dawns onto me that I am breathing way too loud, I'm withering beneath him, when he drags his mouth towards the inner part of my left thigh. He brings out his hot tongue, swirling it around on my skin, and the pleasant tickling sensation and wetness of his saliva almost has me laughing out loud deliriously.

Then all too soon, he stops and sits up, staring into my eyes.

"I need you now," I pant, in a voice I don't even recognize. I sound hoarse, desperate. I'm pleading. But it seems a request he is all too happy to oblige.

Christian crawls on the bed, moving up, careful not to lean onto me too much with his body weight. The anticipation to finally have him, to finally do this together, it makes me tremble uncontrollably.

With a mind of their own, I lift up my hands, exploring his back, the ridges and warm flesh, because cautious not to touch him in the places I have learned Christian doesn't like to be touched over the years. I feel the muscles in his forearms expand over my hands as he raises himself up, and then at last, he pushes himself inside me.

There's a tightness there, one that I experienced with Paul, yet it disappears just as soon as it becomes known. I know I'm completely ready and slick for him, my wetness lubricating him. Once fully sheathed inside me, Chris makes a deep noise, his face full of a pleasure that is palpable. He closes his eyes briefly before glancing down at me, our breaths sounding as shaky and shallow as each other's.

"You still want this?" he asks me, just to be sure. Christian's voice is strained, deeper. Animalistic. I have never really heard it sound like that before, and it's very sexy of him. "If you want me to stop, tell me now otherwise I don't think I will be able to." He wants me to know that if I have any second thoughts, he'll be respectful and will stop. Yet how could I ever want him to stop, now that he is fully inside me?

The fact that he is staring into my eyes, that he is daring to talk to me while he's inside me while we are joined by our sex organs... it's so intimate.

"Do I seem as though I want you to stop?" I breathe out incredulously. "Christian, I'm so wet for you. What does that tell you?"

He closes his eyes again briefly, a groan escaping from the back of his throat as his breathing goes harsher.

As he reopens his eyes, he moves his hands, bringing one into my hair as it floats around me on the pillow. He uses his other hand to stroke my cheek with his fingers, his expression warm, before he bends down to kiss me. He kisses me in such a dizzying way that I can hardly process what is happening when he withdraws back a little, only to push inside me again.

The unexpected pleasure of his movements makes my breath catch in my throat, and then he does it again, and again, but deeper. Christian pulls nearly all the way out, then back in again, drawing a sharp intake of breath from me. It wasn't quite this way with Paul at all; It's more intense somehow, more... right. More filled with sharp sensation and feeling.

Christian reaches down with his hand, weaving his arm around me to find the lower part of my back, placing his palm flat against me, then he pulls me closer, so that with every movement, we rub against each other, our skin creating friction. I lift up with my legs to wrap my feet and ankles around his shins as I move against him on the bed, matching his rhythm, and the shards of pleasure from everything begins to grow increasingly intense.

"Shit, God, Chris..."

The moan escapes me and I hear him chuckle deep in his throat, almost a growl, before he thrusts against me even harder and quicker, in a blissfully euphoric way. I know I'm coming close to the brink and I know he is, too. I can feel it in the tensing of his muscles, his rapid breaths.

"Fuck, Ana," he whispers breathlessly, still moving inside me. "Have you any idea how long I've been fantasizing about this?"

"Me... too," I moan, beyond caring about how ridiculous what I'm saying is.

We're almost there, close to it. Yet in the middle of the floating sensation of pleasure building more and more, I hear that my old bed is creaking from our every movement, his every deep thrust. Oh, god. A cry bursts out of my mouth as I explode, feeling like the world has shattered into a million little pieces. Shards of ecstasy send my body shaking and as Chris finds his own release and comes, I watch him groan as his face twists into one of pure gorgeous ecstasy himself. He remains inside me for a long moment as he sags on top of me, the both of us struggling to regain our breathes. I feel his semen, warm and sticky, inside me.

When he finds enough strength to pull out, Christian brushes my damp hair out of my face before leaning down to kiss me once more. He smiles at me as he falls back onto the mattress beside me, moving one arm behind me to pull me close as we lay above the covers, spent and flushed, my head resting against his chest.

"Wow. That was..." Words fail me and its next to impossible to describe it. "Wow."

He laughs. "I know. It was... everything I expected it would be. Maybe even more." He sounds stunned.

I can't help grinning. "Yeah, me too actually."

I know I should probably tell him to leave and go back to his own room- just in case- yet I feel even too exhausted and drained to speak. My legs and arms won't even move or respond to any commands. My body just seems content to lay here, right now, with him. Something tells me Christian is exactly in the same boat as I am. When I lean my head back to look at him, I find he is grinning, his eyes closed as he still breathes ragged.

But as I eventually come down from the high of the amazing orgasm I have experienced, all due to him, it all comes crushing down onto me brutally. The panic sets in, the shame. _Fuck, what have we just done?_ It's like being drunk on alcohol and doing something irresponsible and thoughtless, something that has the potential to tear our family apart for good. _Shit, what have we done? What have I let us do so foolishly?_

He must see something on my face when he looks at me, because he asks with sluggish concern, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm... I'm great." Even as I say it, I know I don't sound very convincing.

The bed lurches as he sits up, propping up on his side by an arm to look down at me. I wish he couldn't read my face and my emotions so well. I guess that's just something that happens when you grow up with somebody; They learn to read you so well, even disturbingly so. He sighs loudly, studying me. "Post-coital regrets?"

If I wasn't on such a downer, I would have laughed at the word. Yet my usual sense of humor has seemed to have left me completely. Now that the afterglow has waned a little, I'm aware of how cold it is to be laying on the sheets instead of inside them. I wrap my arms around my stomach, vaguely aware my nipples have hardened. "You could say that, sure."

I see his face close in on itself with disappointment as he sighs again heavily. "Well, I don't regret it." He says it almost stubbornly.

"Yeah, and I can see that you don't quite clearly," I mutter under my breath sarcastically. "You don't care how it will effect Mom and Dad at all. I can see that."

"Why should I?" he retorts back, his voice rising slightly. "I've never... considered Carla and Ray my actual parents. Not really."

My mouth opens in outrage because, how can he possibly say that? Mom and Dad have always been so wonderful to him, wanting to be good parents to him and providing him everything to get him through his difficult childhood. Yet he has to go and say that?

"That doesn't mean I'm not extremely grateful for everything they've done for me," he adds hastily, staring at me like he needs for me to understand. "But I haven't exactly... felt like your brother, either. I'm not really their son and I'm not really your brother. My mother was the crack whore, not Carla. The way I see it, you and I are just two people that grew up together, non-related, who have feelings for each other so what we did just then... it was right. _Inevitable_. It doesn't matter to me as much as it clearly does to you."

"How can it not matter to you?" I hiss at him.

"I don't know. It just doesn't."

"That's really mean, especially when Mom and Dad care for you so much."

"Maybe, you _are_ right. Maybe it _is_ mean." He shrugs. "But I can't regret this. Even _you_ surely can't tell me that you regret this one hundred percent, Ana, can you?"

I force myself to sit up, curling my arms over my exposed chest. _What the fuck have I gotten myself into? Why am I so stupid?_

"This is... right to me," he continues heatedly, defending his point. "What we just did together, it felt right to me. Like it should have always been this way, not... something to regret or feel sorry for." Now I wish he would just stop talking and leave. "I don't know whether you feel the same way or not, Ana, but it... its just how I feel. It should have always been this way for us. It was in the cards all along."

"No, it was a mistake," I get out desperately, trying not to look at him. "It was stupid and impulsive and selfish. That's what this was, Chris."

The loud intake of breath he makes lets me know I've succeeded in truly wounding him. "Is that what you really think? That this was a mistake?"

"Yes." I can't look at him. Looking at him while I say this would be more than I could possibly handle. "We let... our feelings override what's right and responsible. It was a... a huge mistake. A careless one that can't happen ever again, Christian." I make my face look nothing but sincere as I finally force myself to turn and look at him. The hurt and irritation on his face, God, it makes it so hard. "We can't do this ever again."

"So what? You want to pretend this never happened? We wake up tomorrow morning and forget all about this?"

"Yes," I agree, ignoring the painful ache in my heart. "Yes, that is exactly what we do, Christian, because we have to. It's what's right, for _both_ Mom and Dad." I glance away, finding it unbearable to look at him too long. "We have feelings for each other, but... now that we've screwed and have gotten those feelings out of our systems, we can move on. Now we can be what we should be, _how_ we should be."

"That's fucking bullshit," he grumbles under his breath, breathing heavily. "I know you don't believe what you are actually saying for a second. I _know_ you."

When I feel him just staring at me, I make the decision to move off the bed, so fast I almost trip over my own feet.

"Please. You need to go back into your own bedroom in case they wake up or come upstairs to check on us," I tell him firmly, staring down at the floor. "This was nothing more than a mistake that should have never happened in the first place. One that won't happen ever again. I need you to respect that, Christian."

I see him stand from the bed out of the corner of my eye. I'm careful not to look at him when he silently moves around, picking up his clothes. He pauses by the door, turning back to look at me. Maybe he hopes I'll suddenly change my mind? I'm that close to it, because I hate what I'm saying the instance I say it, but it feels necessary to me. Cold hearted as it may seem of me, it's what our parents would want. He wrenches the bedroom door open and as it shuts, my heart seizes painfully and I sink down to my knees on the carpet.

I know within my heart that it is anything but a mistake, but what I'm doing is the right thing for our parents. I can't let this happen again.

 **How was this one? So nervous! I bet I've failed with the lemon! I'm sure I'll get a bit better next time. :)**

 **P.S, In response to reviewers not happy with where I have taken it, I think its realistic at least one of them would have their doubts and fear about the parents finding out afterwards. I know I haven't written Ana in the best light for what she did, but she'll realize her error next chapter and things will be resolved.**

 **That said, it isn't going to be a repetitive thing for Ana, so don't worry. She's trying to put others feelings before her own but she'll realize after a little convincing and a heart-to-heart talk that Christian was right and she can't stop herself.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thank you so much for the alerts and reviews, they mean a lot! I own nothing to do with 50 Shades, just a fan :) Sorry if this one is bad or cheesy haha.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9**

When I wake up the next morning, I stay in bed for a while, staring up at the ceiling in my childhood bedroom. My heart feels heavy with despair when I think over what happened last night. I feel guilty, but not for any reasons I expected.

It's how I acted last night, what I said to Christian.

I was so mean. I will gladly even say that I acted like a bitch for what I said. The look on his face when I called it a mistake, the hurt. I don't actually think it was a mistake, what we did. _Not really_. I never once thought that staying over the weekend at the family home would have led to this, not in my wildest dreams; To Chris and I having sex, and it was above and beyond any expectations I could have had about it. I've always found myself attracted to him, and surprisingly, Christian feels the same way.

I used to wonder how he would react if I ever told him; Would he be repulsed or sickened because he sees me as a little sister? I never once thought he would reciprocate my feelings. I thought I would have to keep them a secret forever.

It felt right to me in every way it apparently felt right to him. And, if I had it my way, if I could be foolish for one second and just not give a crap about what anyone would think... I would have wanted it to happen again and again. It was so much better than anything I have ever experienced before; So much more than how it was with Paul, so much better than _anything_. Yet I'm not the type of person who just does things without caring. I can't be one of those people that pushes aside the probable consequences or how it could impact everyone else if they found out.

But it wasn't a mistake, and if I could do it again with him, I would be doing it within a heartbeat. It is just mainly the thought of our parents reactions that scares me.

He's right, in everything that he said, I think. We have never really regarded ourselves as brother and sister; It's just everyone else that labels us as such.

We are not related biologically or anything like that, so there would be no future complications if we ever took it further and decided to have children together. There would be no risk of genetic abnormalities if he ever got me pregnant. As far as I know, it's not illegal for us to ever marry or date each other where we are so it wouldn't be like we were doing anything majorly wrong.

I guess it's just what society would think, and what our parents would think especially that freaks me out _. God, what would even Kate think, if I ever told her Christian and I had sex last night?_ I know she would freak out, because she has always spent time with us when we were younger. She's always seen us as a brother and sister that get along really well. I don't even want to let myself dare to contemplate on what Mom and Dad's reactions would be to it.

Realizing I can't avoid Christian and everything just to stay in bed forever, I force myself to get up, making the bed before getting dressed into a fresh pair of clothes. Once I'm into a pair of jeans and a black tank-top, I open the curtains, staring out the window into the driveway.

My heart spasms with relief. Christian's shiny silver BMW is still parked near my old Volkswagen beetle by the driveway, at least. He hasn't left due to how horrible I had treated him last night- and a part of me was both dreading and expecting him to. After last night, I had been so sure he would be leaving this morning. I'm relieved he hasn't.

Yet, I realize I'm getting too complacent once I open my bedroom door, staring straight into his old bedroom. The door is wide open, as well as the curtains. Early morning light spills through his curtains, illuminating his room. His bed is well made, his suitcase that he brought yesterday nowhere in the room to be found. Maybe he has decided to leave early after all?

When I start stepping downstairs, I become aware of the voices. It's Christian. Christian and Mom.

"Something came up with work so I might have to leave earlier than planned," he says, his voice low and measured. "I'm sorry. I guess I won't be able to stay all weekend after all."

"But we wanted you both here for the full weekend, honey? We hardly get to see you two otherwise?" Just by the sound of Mom's voice, I know she's upset and disappointed. "I thought you had already informed them at your work that you would be taking the three days off?"

 _Crap. What have I done?_

When I get into the kitchen, I find them sitting at the table, both drinking coffee.

Mom gets up to make me a hot drink, but Chris refuses to look at me, I notice. He's ignoring me. And maybe he has every right to, especially after what I said so harshly last night?

"What's this about leaving?" I force myself to ask, resting against the kitchen counter.

"Christian got a call from work so he may have to cut the weekend here short and make the drive back to Seattle early," Mom explains with a sigh.

"Really?" I make myself glance at Christian. It takes a lot of tremendous effort and last night seems to replay in my head all over again, _just like that_. It can't be helped. I see it, flashing by so vividly; Christian on top of me on the bed, thrusting, him inside me... kissing me. He won't look at me; He keeps his head down low, his hands wrapped around his mug of coffee. "You have to leave so soon already?"

I feel my throat tighten when he nods once without looking at me. "Yeah, I might have to leave early. Something came up with work." I know he's lying; He never really got a call from work to go back to Seattle. I _know_ him, maybe even more than I know myself. I can tell when he is lying and when he isn't. He's just using that as an excuse to leave early most probably because of what I said last night. He's even already dressed. He has probably already even packed his things so he can beat a hasty retreat.

It's all my fault. Mom's disappointed and upset, and it's all my fault he wants to leave the family home early.

It's _all_ because o _f me_ , and it hurts. I've hurt him _that_ badly that he feels its necessary to leave. He doesn't want to be anywhere near me right now, let alone have to face looking me directly in the eye.

There are so many things I find myself wishing I could say to him. I don't know where I would start, but I think it would go a little like this: _I don't want you to leave early, and I know its mainly because of me and what I said last night after we did what we did. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm so sorry for saying it was a mistake, that it was wrong of us, when it wasn't. Last night, it was probably the best thing that has ever happened between us. So please don't leave because of what I said. I said what we did together was selfish, yet... I'm the selfish one for hurting you and saying all those mean things like that._

I want to say that to him so badly, so desperately. I want him to know, and yet, I can't. I can't say that to him, not while Mom is in the room. I am reduced to simply staring at the side of his head, wishing he would turn and glance up at me. I wish him to, I urge him to with my eyes, yet... it never happens. He doesn't glance up, not even when he stands from the chair, tucking it in.

"Tell Ray I'm sorry," he mutters, stepping towards Mom to kiss her quickly on the cheek. "This just can't wait. I can't miss work otherwise I'll lose my job."

Mom tries to look as understanding as she can. "I know, honey. Don't lose your job."

I bite my lip, dipping my head down low, waiting for him to kiss me on the cheek goodbye too. Yet while I wait, glancing up at him surreptitiously through my eyelashes, I see him avoid me as he grabs his suitcase in the hallway. I feel such a crippling aching pain in my gut, it surprises me that I can still manage to stand upright. Then I see how upset Mom looks and I know I have to at least try to set this right.

"I'll try go talk him out of it," I whisper to her, a promise. Mom smiles at me with hope, and I move out of the kitchen, walking briskly to the front door.

Already, he is at his car, shoving his suitcase in the back. My stomach goes into little knots as I walk towards him while he slams the door shut. I frantically search for the right words to say, yet I seem to come up blank when he looks at me while opening the driver's side door.

I open my mouth, about to say something, _anything,_ yet he beats me to it.

"I wouldn't bother wasting your breath," he says indifferently. "Don't bother trying to convince me to stay. It isn't going to work."

"Did work even really call this morning like you told Mom inside the house?" I ask him skeptically, ignoring him. I know they hadn't really called; It's just his excuse. "Do you really have to drive back to Seattle early to work, Christian?"

He swallows, glancing away from me for a moment. "Yes, they _actually_ did call, Ana," he says, his voice low, barely audible. "I'm sorry I can't stick around as long as I thought I would be able to."

"Liar," I whisper spitefully under my breath. "You're lying."

His head snaps into my direction again as he squints at me through the harsh morning light. " _Am_ I?"

" _Yes_ , you are. It's your excuse because of what happened last night. I know that's what this is really about. You're angry at me because I-"

His face darkens with rage. "-Look, this is for the best, all right?" he snaps over me, his eyes flickering up towards the house to double-check we are alone without any chance of being overheard. "I can't stay here, especially not after what happened last night. _You_ may be all right with pretending last night never even happened, but _I_ can't!"

Before I can even so much as get another word out, he ducks down, sinking into the driver's seat of the car. He shuts the door on me, leaving me standing there helplessly for a long moment, staring at him through the window. But I'm not giving in, not so soon. I lift a hand, rapping it against the glass of the window a few times. I guess he grows tired of me hitting his car, because he caves in, clicking the button that makes the automatic window scroll down. He has no choice but to hear me out.

"Last night, what we did... it _wasn't_ the mistake, Christian," I explain to him urgently, lowering my voice. "What I said _was_ the mistake. I understand if you hate me now, or if you... you're angry with me, but don't take it out on Mom and punish _her_ by leaving the house all because of something _I_ said out of _my own_ stupidity!" He turns to look at me, his mouth a tight grim line. "We _both_ know how much they have wanted us to spend the full weekend here!"

I know my words are having some sort of impact on him. Christian glances away from me for a moment, his expression conflicted. He sighs heavily, shaking his head. "Yes, and I understand that. I understand how much Ray and Carla wanted this," he acknowledges softly. "I just think its better if I leave early."

"Why?" I demand, bending my knees to glance straight in through his window at him.

"Because I just told you," he hisses in annoyance. "I _already_ told you why. Honestly, with the way things happened last night, it was as if you were just using me for sex! Like I was some quick and easy fuck you wanted because I was available to you at the time?"

I cringe at his assumption. It really stings. " _Using you_ for sex? Chris, it's not like-"

"-Was that part of your whole plan?" He bursts out angrily.

"Part of my _plan_?" I repeat, baffled. " _What_ plan? What are you talking about?"

"To lead me on and just play me for sex? To lead me on like that only to insist it was a mistake afterwards?" I have never seen him so angry before. I realize how much I've hurt him. "To play with my heart?"

"No! How could you even think that?"

"Well, either way, I can't just stay here and go on pretending like last night never happened. You hurt my fucking feelings last night and I think its definitely better for _myself_ if I leave right now rather than later." He turns to glance at me again, his gray eyes troubled. "You said it yourself last night. You think what we did is wrong and a mistake, whereas _I_ don't."

"Yes, and _I_ was wrong by saying that. I was just..." I hesitate, feeling my throat tighten again. "I was scared, believe it or not. I thought what we did together last night was _so_ _amazing_ , but... I'm scared, Christian."

"Scared?" he repeats dubiously, searching my eyes. "Scared of what?"

"Because of... what I _know_ Mom and Dad would say and do if they ever found out," I admit shakily. "I _know_ how they would react if they ever found out anything, and I... I _don't want_ to lose them."

"How do you think they would react?"

"You _know_ how they would react already, Chris!" A hollow laugh escapes my mouth. "They would be so angry and... maybe, they might even disown us or refuse to have us in their lives anymore! You have to understand that it would be pretty weird for them, right? They adopted you, and we grew up together and then, suddenly... they find out we're _together_ together. Is that not weird to you? Can you not see how they would find it even remotely weird?"

"Weird? No. It's not that weird to me." Strangely enough, he looks like he actually means it. "I don't really give a flying fuck what anyone thinks, Ana. I think _you_ have always been the one to care too much about what people think." He looks past me at something and when I glance back too, I realize Mom is standing on the front step, watching us. "Get in and let's go for a drive," Chris suggests quietly, leaning over to open the passenger's side door for me. "Carla's watching."

"Mom, Christian and I are just going for a drive," I call back at her, because I feel like I can't _not_ tell her. "We'll hopefully be back soon. I'll get him to change his mind."

She waves at us before stepping back inside, and I climb in, securing the seat belt over me. He starts the car, signals back out onto the road, and then we drive around for a few minutes in silence until he decides to pull over at the side of the road about four blocks away from the family house. The nerves won't seem to leave me.

I wait for him to break the ice first, mainly because I'm not sure what to say. He unbuckles his belt slowly, letting it slide into place while leaning his head back in the seat. He rests an arm on the door, turning to look at me anxiously.

"So, what do you want to do?" he asks softly after a moment.

"What do I want to do? About _what_?"

"About what happened last night. About what we did together," he explains impatiently. "What happens now?"

"I... I don't know."

"Do you really regret it, like you said you did? Do you really feel it was a mistake?"

I hesitate. Then I realize if I don't be truthful, I'll just be hurting him all over again. "I don't regret it, not really," I admit slowly. "I don't really think it was a... a mistake, either. It felt right to me, and I... I wanted it as much as you did. Like I said, I was just scared. I'm _so scared_ about what Mom and Dad will think if they ever find out and what their reactions would be." I glance at him quickly, finding him staring at me in an intense and avid way. " _That_ was mainly why I said it the way I did."

"Because you're afraid they will disown you?" he asks, trying to understand.

"Partly, yeah. Aren't you afraid they would get angry or disown you, too?"

"You _really think_ they would go that far?" He sounds doubtful, like he doesn't think they would. I suppose I can't imagine Mom and Dad ever doing that myself; Usually, they are pretty laid-back. Maybe they wouldn't go that far as to disown us? A part of me still can't help fearing that they would. "From what I see of it, Carla and Ray have always been particularly concerned about our happiness. Haven't they said a hundred times already that they wish we could finally meet someone and be happy?"

He's got a point, sure. "I know Mom is always pestering me about me being single. But I'm sure it'll be a different story if we both call her up and say, 'Hey, I'm finally seeing someone that I want you to meet', then turn around and say its me or you that we're dating. I'm sure she'd be real pleased about that, if my boyfriend ended up being _you_ , her adopted son."

"Well, it's like I said. We don't need to tell them."

"But we kind of _do_ , don't we? I wouldn't want to lie to them?"

"We don't have to right _now,_ " he says, peering out the window. "We can do it whenever you feel ready. _Or_ we don't have to even tell them at all, if you're never ready. And besides," he pauses, licking his lips, "We're adults. We are not kids anymore that have to tell them everything that goes on in our lives."

"So does that mean you'll stay?" I ask hopefully, staring into his eyes. "You'll stay now for the full weekend? You won't leave?"

He stares at me for a long moment, considering. "It all depends."

"On what?"

"On what _you_ ultimately want to do. If you want us to pretend what happened last night didn't, that we don't have feelings for each other, that everything's a mistake then..." He takes in a deep breath, "Yes, I'll still be leaving."

I still don't understand why he can't just stay either way. "Why can't you stay either way?"

He sighs loudly, glancing away from me. His jaw clenches. "Because it'll be too hard for me. I've been in denial over this for a long time now, and frankly, I'm _sick_ of denying," he whispers. "And now that it's actually happened, now that I've... had you for real, I can't keep pretending that I don't love you anymore."

I gasp out loud, my stomach clenching. His words take me by surprise so much that I almost feel as though he's punched me in the gut or something. _He loves me? Did he just confess that he loves me?_ "You love me? Like a... a sister, you mean?"

"No, Ana." He glances at me, like he's frustrated. " _Never_ like a sister."

 _Holy fuck_. My heart seems to explode in my chest with a rush of overwhelming feeling. I know I've loved him, too. More than just in the brother-sister-friend way. I've known it ever since I was around seventeen.

 **I'll just go run away now... Hope this wasn't terrible or cheesy. I also hope it isn't too taboo or awkward lol. It probably was though! Sorry! If there is anything you wish to happen or want to see in the story, feel free to let me know? I am always open to any suggestions.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much for the alerts and reviews, they mean a lot! I own nothing to do with 50 Shades just a fan but hope you enjoy this one!**

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

After our talk, Christian ends up driving back to the house with me.

Mom must spot his car pulling up, because she rushes out, smiling happily to welcome him back in. She laughs, hugging him fondly, then offers to help him with carrying his suitcase back inside. At least I've made her happy in seeming like I talked Chris into staying, but I can't help feeling relieved as well. I know I would have been deeply upset if he left myself, especially while knowing secretly at the back of my mind that I had been the one to cause him to leave.

But he's staying the full weekend as agreed now. And, it's all that matters.

We've decided to take it slow, allowing the outcome of the weekend to decide where we will be going from here. Christian lives in an apartment all the way in Seattle, which requires about a three hour drive to where Kate and I live and work, so I am not entirely sure how that will work out, the whole long distance thing. I suppose it wouldn't be too hard to drive to each other during the weekends, then back again. But it wasn't something we had properly discussed in the car.

I'm just so pleased that things are resolved now. It's good. _Better_ than good.

If I can just control my mind and not think so much or dwell on what anyone would think, it should work out fine. He's right; We are adults now and we don't need to explain ourselves to anyone. When the time comes- if needed, if this ever develops into anything serious- then we'll think about telling Mom and Dad. But, as for now, I'll try not to dwell and just see this as a fun and experimental thing between two consenting adults.

After a late breakfast, Mom convinces me into changing into my bikini again so that we can go sunbathing and swimming in the pool, while Chris remains with Dad playing 8 ball around the pool table. I head upstairs into my old room, getting changed into my bikini and only just remembering to grab a towel for myself before heading back downstairs.

As I walk past Dad and Christian, I can't help glancing their way. They look so intense and involved in their game, and Dad's laying his cue stick on the table, positioning to shoot with his back facing me. My stomach seems to do a weird dance when Christian suddenly looks my way, watching me. I feel my cheeks redden as I quickly dart out to the empty chaise Mom has saved for me, embarrassed to be found in my skimpy rainbow colored bikini yet again in front of him.

I sit down beside Mom, tucking in my legs while balling up the towel and shoving it behind my head. I have no idea why I am so nervous around him in my bathers, really. It isn't like I had felt nervous last night, standing naked in front of him. And, besides, he seemed to have really enjoyed what he saw anyway. _Why get nervous?_

It seems hotter than it did yesterday. After about ten minutes of lying around in silence, I already feel too sweaty and hot, so I stand, getting a weird head-rush from the heat. "Mom, I'm going in the pool," I tell her, but she doesn't answer. Either she has fallen asleep while sunbathing or she didn't hear me. I'm willing to bet my finger on the falling asleep part.

Holding onto the ladder with both hands, I start stepping into the pool, startled by how freezing it seems to be in comparison to outside it with the humidity in the air. Then, deciding to get it over with before I lose my courage, I let myself fall backwards, going straight under, submerging my hair. As I return up for air, breaking through the surface with a gasp, I bring up a hand, rubbing the water out of my eyes.

That's when I look up and see Christian standing there all of a sudden. _What? Wasn't he inside playing pool with Dad? How did he get outside so quickly?_

I look, though I try not to seem too obvious with it in case someone sees. He's changed out of his clothes, and he's just wearing loose black shorts to go swimming with. His body looks even better than I remembered it had from last night; His shorts hang low around his pelvis area, showing off V-indentations around his hips. _Oh, my God._ Without warning, he jumps in, canon-balling and catching me completely off-guard, I shriek with laughter accidentally when water splashes around me. I'm so positive that its loud enough to rouse Mom, yet when I glance up towards where she lays around to check, she hasn't moved at all astonishingly enough.

When Christian resurfaces, he wades through the water slowly towards me while he runs a hand over his dripping wet face, wiping his eyes, his hair damp and darker from the water. He starts coming towards me and I step back cautiously, suspicious he is about to do something like grabbing me and throwing me under the water. It definitely seems like something he would do.

"I thought you were playing a game of pool with Dad?" I say in confusion.

"Ray went inside. There was something on TV he wanted to watch instead." He says it while still walking towards me, his eyes on me, and I know he _definitely_ intends to do _something_.

I end up backing straight into the corner, realizing my mistake. "What are you doing?" I ask suspiciously, lifting both hands out of the water, fully prepared to start splashing him if he gets too close.

" _What_?" He's acting all Mr Innocent, but I know his intentions are anything but innocent. He's smiling, wickedly amused. "What am I doing right now?"

"I know what you're doing. Your scheming on various ways to somehow get me under the water."

"No, I'm just wondering..." He says, coming closer until he's reached completely in front of me.

"Wondering what?"

He moves close enough to say quietly in my ear, "Wondering what it would be like to have sex in a pool."

I gasp at his audacity to say such a thing, especially when Mom is just a few inches away within earshot. _What the hell does he think he is doing?_

I look Mom's way meaningfully. "You can't say that kind of stuff, Chris," I warn him, keeping my voice just below a whisper.

"Why can't I?"

"Because you _know_ why. Mom's just only over there. And frankly..." I start wading away in the water, feeling it work at the muscles in my legs, a smile on my face, "It's _disgusting_ and _so very wrong_ of you to say that." I'm mainly teasing, but when I glance back at him behind my shoulder, I'm not entirely sure he knows that I am himself. "Anyway, I'm done swimming," I say, reaching the ladder. I grip it, pulling myself up, the water spilling off me. "I'm going to go take a shower."

 _And yeah, it may or may not be an invitation_. I'll let him decide that for himself.

I grab my towel off the chaise, patting myself dry before heading inside. He doesn't follow me, so I figure he doesn't know what to think. I pass the living room as I go to head upstairs to grab some clean clothes, noticing Dad half-watching the TV, half-dozing as well. Even when I was younger, Dad would have a habit of falling asleep on the couch. I guess things haven't really changed at all.

I smile to myself as I get upstairs, collecting some clean underwear and a light, knee-length floral dress out of my bag. So, if not thinking too seriously about the potential consequences of this, it could be fun; what Christian and I are doing. The more I don't think about Mom and Dad's reaction, the better. The more I try not to care about what anyone thinks, the less I hurt him and myself this way, in denying how good and natural it feels.

Climbing back down the stairs with my clothes in hand, I head into the bathroom, shutting the door while setting my fresh and dry clothes on the closed toilet seat lid. Then I pull the string on my damp bikini top free, then bend, yanking down and stepping out of the wet bikini bottoms. I open the shower door and step in, turning on the water, letting it run warm before completely drenching myself in it. I'm just turning back to get the bottle of shampoo when I hear the door open.

"Um, I'm in here?" I holler, blinking furiously to get the water stinging my eyes out as I look through the misty glass screen. I suspect it's Mom, not realizing I'm in here. "I'm just taking a-" The words die in my throat as I look towards the person. I'm completely wrong; It isn't Mom walking in by accident. It's Christian.

With his back to me, he's stepping out of his wet shorts, bending down. Like last night and since he was going swimming in the pool, he hadn't bothered with underwear. I catch a glimpse of his backside, and it's really... _perfect_. Perfectly rounded and smooth, with no marks in sight. _How can a man's backside look so damn good?_ My breath hitches in my throat as it slowly occurs to me his reason into coming into the bathroom. It was no mistake, obviously.

"Um, why are you in here?" I ask, very softly. I guess I don't want Mom or Dad downstairs to hear me talking to him. "Do you think this is really a good plan when Mom and Dad are just downstairs?"

"I locked the bathroom door," Chris says carelessly, opening the shower door to step in. "And, last time I looked, Carla was still napping and Ray had fallen asleep on the couch with the TV going. I think its safe to assume we're in the clear." He doesn't come closer to step into the water to get warm. He simply stands back to gaze at me, his eyes running slowly down my breasts and the rest of my body. _Hadn't he seen it already last night? Why does he look so appreciative?_

"You _can_ come closer into the water, you know," I suggest, my voice strangely husky. "I'm not _that_ much of a water hogger." My eyes just decide to go there, traveling down his body. He truly is gorgeous. Everything about him is. If anyone had ever told me that this would be happening, with Christian of all people, I wouldn't have believed them for a second. But it _is_ happening. He miraculously feels the same way.

"Let me wash your hair," he suggests, coming closer. He reaches behind me to get the bottle of shampoo and I turn towards the water, my heart seeming to race like crazy.

He squirts some of the shampoo into his hands, and then he starts applying it to my damp hair, lathering it in. It's strangely comforting, having someone help with shampooing your hair. He seems to take great care in handling my hair gently, being cautious of not accidentally pulling the strands.

"Hmm," I murmur peacefully.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice sounding hoarser... different.

"I think I do. Sometimes its nice to be taken care of by someone else."

I guess he grows tired of my hair and is impatient to feel other things, because his hands start roaming. He brushes his fingers down my back, gliding them over my shoulders, massaging in a way that is heavenly. Then his hands move down towards my chest, he steps close enough that I feel him from behind, and his hands reach my breasts. He cups them in both hands, squeezing gently. A shaky inhale escapes me when he bends down to kiss the side of my neck, parting his lips and using his teeth to nip at my skin while his hands move, encircling my breasts, massaging the supple flesh and around my nipples in a bizarrely sensual way that turns me on.

I'm _so_ hot for him, by what he's doing, that I feel like I'm on fire. I find it difficult to breathe, and I'm panting in shallow, desperate breaths. The shower is misty from the water so I don't know if its all completely _his_ doing, but... its stiflingly hot.

But its still daytime. Mom and Dad are downstairs and, sleeping or not, it's too risky.

"Later," I pant, my voice coming out a garbled moan. I'm surprised I can even speak while Christian is doing what he is to me, to my body.

"Hmm?" He breathes into my skin, nuzzling me.

"We should..." One hand skims down my wet body, his fingers gliding all the way past my hip, to my thigh. Then he takes a sudden turn, sending me jolting flat against him as his fingers find the mound between my legs, his fingers stroking me through my damp pubic hair. "...We should later when it isn't so risky." A cry of pleasure threatens to escape my throat as I sag against him, my knees going dangerously weak as his fingers continue to stroke me, assault me. " _Tonight_."

"You want me to stop?" he pants in my ear, then he catches the shell of my ear between his teeth, pulling gently.

"Please, Christian," I whisper urgently. "Not now while they're just... downstairs."

Only he doesn't. His fingers continue, stimulating me, torturing me.

"Why aren't you stopping?" I gasp out.

"Not yet. I want you to come."

I beg for him to stop again helplessly, my voice thready, and Christian only does once it happens. As the sensations take over, I have to press my lips tightly together to stifle the moan of my orgasm once it happens, my head tilting back at his fingers incessant stroking. I seem to lose all sense in my legs, and as I start sliding down to the tiles, Christian's arms fasten around me, holding me up.

He holds me to his naked body tightly until my breathing settles down and I stop trembling, as the feeling of weakness leaves me.

"Tonight then," he whispers into my temple before leaning in to kiss it quickly. Regaining the strength in my legs, I go to move away, but his muscular arms tighten around me, holding me prisoner. "You don't regret it again, do you?" He sounds worried as he strokes the shell of my ear with the tip of his nose.

"No, Christian," I assure him, and it's the truth. "It won't be like it was last night."

"You promise? So there won't be any repercussions of you calling this a mistake?"

"There won't be, I _promise_."

I try to get free again, only he isn't budging. "Say this wasn't a mistake, Ana," he demands. _"Say_ it. Say that you know it."

My brow furrows in confusion. "Why do I need to say it? I just promised-"

He squeezes me, alarming me. Not in a way to hurt me, but just rough enough to thrill me, to stun me. "Say it. I need to hear it."

"Okay," I surrender, breathless with confusion. "This _wasn't_ a mistake. Happy?"

It's then that he lets me go, allowing me to move away. I rinse my hair and body under the spray of water to get it free of the shampoo before I head out to get towel dried and redressed, hoping to get back downstairs before he does so no one notices.

 ** _Hope this one was okay? Liking? Hating? Failing at writing this/lemon scene? Thank you :D_**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you! Hope you enjoy this one :-)**

* * *

 **Chapter 11**

When I get back downstairs in my dress, my hair still damp and dripping, I find Mom now awake in the kitchen.

"Holy shit, Mom," I burst out in pity, the instance I see her. The skin on her back and shoulders are red raw from falling asleep on the chaise outside in the sun. She's badly sunburned, and I bet it's going to be so painful later, especially when her skin starts to peel. "Ouch."

"Thank you for bothering to wake me," she scolds, but she doesn't sound completely serious and angry with me. I can't help laughing, though I feel guilty as well. Me or Christian should have woken her before we came inside in case she got sun stroke or something. It would have been the considerate thing to do, only I wasn't thinking about it at the time.

"Gosh, Mom. It looks like it hurts so badly?"

"It isn't so bad just yet," she says. "You wait until later tonight, though. I'll really be complaining then."

"I bet you will be."

"You look like you suffered a bit of sunburn as well?" she says, stunning me. _Have I gotten sunburned even although I wasn't outside for as long as Mom had been?_ I glance down at my arms and my legs. They don't look sunburned though. They are pale as ever. Mom comes closer, gathering my hair gently in her hands. "Yep, honey. You got a bit sunburned too."

"Really?" I hadn't realized I had spent long enough in the sun to get burned though. It doesn't even feel sore. "Where?"

"On the side of your neck?"

"But I wasn't out in the sun that long?" I say in confusion. "Maybe it's just a heat rash from the shower?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe?"

I hadn't checked my reflection before I got out of the shower. I had been so hasty to dress as quickly as possible in case anyone noticed Christian and I were in the shower together. Distressed, I dart into the living room where the large mirror is by the fireplace. Dad's still sleeping on the couch, snoring faintly. Once I get close enough to see my reflection, lifting up my damp hair, the reason for Mom's reaction becomes clear.

 _Holy shit. Christian, you son of a bitch for doing this to me!_

It isn't sunburn, like Mom suspected. It's a round patch of reddish skin, definitely stubble rash. Christian must have done that while he was kissing my neck in the shower. Sneaky asshole. Now what can I possibly say to hide the true reason why from my mother? I inspect it curiously. Then again, I think it also looks similar to a bite from an insect, so that excuse might work. How dare he leave a mark on me when it's so suspicious though! How dare he put me into this situation by doing this to me, particularly in a place so noticeable. _I cannot believe him!_

"See what I mean, honey?" Mom comes in from behind me, speaking quietly so we don't wake up Dad.

"Yeah, I see. I think I actually got stung by something, though."

"Oh, no. Really?" It doesn't seem unrealistic anyway. "Is it hurting? We have some antibacterial lotion if that's what you need? It might do the trick?"

"No, it should be fine. I definitely felt something bite me though. It was probably an insect or something, Mom."

Christian is _so_ going to get it once he comes downstairs. He is in _so much_ trouble once I get him alone!

"Probably. You poor darling." I'm still battling to get over the shock of what he did when she walks over to where Dad is snoring. "He's exhausted," she whispers sympathetically.

"I know. Probably because he got another year older yesterday."

"We were thinking about all of us going out to dinner tonight to a restaurant," Mom suggests eagerly. "That would be nice, don't you think?"

"Sure, Mom."

"I'll try wake your father up and get him to have a quick shower and get changed, and then we can go. Where's your brother at?"

I try not to answer so quickly, letting it drag out for a moment so she doesn't suspect I was with him up in the shower barely ten minutes ago. "Well, we went in the pool together and I got out to have a shower. Last time I ran into him, he went to take a shower after me."

"You don't mind going upstairs to tell him if you can find him, do you?"

"Sure, I'll go do that. He should be out of the shower by now anyway."

When I head towards the bathroom, the door is already open with the fan still going, which means he has retreated up to his old room to get changed. I head upstairs, taking it one slow step at a time, my heart racing. I am still livid over him giving me stubble rash in such an obvious place and I'm not so sure what I am going to do. All I know, is that he is going to be sorry. Even if it was unintentional of him, I'm still angry.

"Christian?" I call out as I stand by his closed door. I knock against it once, just in case he hasn't heard me. "It's me, Ana. Mom and Dad were thinking about all of us going out to a restaurant tonight for dinner."

There's a moment of silence where I just wait. Then I hear his door unlock and he opens it slightly. "You can come in."

I hesitate, glancing back towards the stairs. No one is there anyway. "You sure? I don't want to intrude?"

"Ana, you've seen me already anyway." _Hmm, I suppose that's true._ _I have definitely seen a lot of him; Especially last night and around fifteen minutes ago in the shower..._ I guess I am just worried I'll have a lapse in self control if I see too much of him. But bracing myself, I decide to take my chances. I push open the door halfway, craning my head in through the gap curiously.

I feel strangely disappointed when I discover he is already dressed in dark blue jeans and a white button up shirt that is still unbuttoned, hanging open at his chest. A men's blazer is draped around the doorknob on his old wardrobe.

He turns back to look at me as he moves his hands towards the buttons, taking his time in doing them up. "What's this about a restaurant?"

"Oh. Mom and Dad were thinking of us all heading out to dinner for something to do." Stupidly, I find it difficult to look at him. It's because of the shirt undone, the chest. "She sent me up to tell you."

"You look beautiful in that dress," he says quietly, warmly. "The blue on it suits you."

Terribly, I feel myself flush with pleasure. "Yeah, I figured you'd like it," I mutter, glancing up at him. "Blue has always been your favorite color, hasn't it?"

"You remember what my favorite color is?" He sounds surprised.

" _Of course_ I do." I shrug with a short laugh. "I've known you since you were, like, eleven so... naturally, _of course_ I remember what your favorite color is." I clear my throat, my infuriated mood returning to me. "Oh, and by the way, I am _so not_ happy with you."

"You're not happy with me? Why?" God, he sounds so innocent. "What have I done?"

"I think you already _know_ the answer to that."

"What?" He starts walking towards me, smiling slightly. At least he has fully buttoned his shirt up now. That definitely makes things easier and less... tempting. He stands in front of me, his lips quirked at the corners. "What have I done?"

" _This_ ," I say meaningfully, pointing to the side of my neck. I give him a look, showing him how unhappy I am, how unamused. Yet, it is sort of funny. "Mom saw it and assumed I got sunburned. I had to lie and tell her an insect bit me. _How_ could you do that to me? How _could you_ put me in that situation, you big jerk?"

"Oh? _I'm_ a big jerk now?" Christian clenches both fists, raising them to me, challenging me to a fight. "You didn't seem as if you minded back there when we were in the shower at the time? So what are you going to do about it?"

"You are in for a world of pain, that's for sure!"

"Well, come on then. Give it to me."

I clench my hands into fists, raising them to him too, getting into a boxers stance. He's smiling mischievously, and I'm smiling. God, it's like we are two foolish kids again. We would always use to do this. We would always play-fight, and get enjoyment out of it. It's different now, though. It almost feels like exciting foreplay.

Bending me knees slightly, I scoot towards him, hitting him playfully on the side of the arm with a laugh. Christian makes a noise, feigning hurt, I think. Then he startles me, catching me off-guard. Before I know it, he has good grasp of my hips and he is pushing me backwards. I end up falling on my backside, down onto his mattress. At least I hadn't fallen over onto the floor though.

Quick as a blink, he climbs onto the mattress, astride me; the both of us panting heavily and heaving through laughter as he uses all his weight to pin me down to the bed. He rests his hands near each side of my head, looking down at me. I'm vaguely aware that my dress has ridden up past my thighs, showing my underwear and my crotch, no doubt, but I can hardly seem to care at all.

"Now _what_ are you going to do?" he murmurs triumphantly, his breathing ragged. "Am I still in for a world of pain?"

"Get _off_ ," I protest, attempting to unseat him by wiggling around. It doesn't work at all, unfortunately. With him using all his weight to hold me down, I am helpless underneath him. And, horrifyingly enough, I have never felt more aroused. " _Help_!" I pretend to scream. " _Help_ me! He's going to-"

"-What?" He growls playfully, lifting up a hand to cover it over my mouth, stifling my fake cries. " _What_ am I going to do?"

I surrender in silence, keeping quiet, and he moves his hand away slowly from my mouth. I stare up at him, breathing deeply, my hair strewn across my face. My fringe is sticking to my forehead with sweat, with my heart racing like a monster. I _hate_ how I feel. I feel so terribly turned on by him being on top of me, restraining me. I shouldn't be feeling aroused at all, I should be feeling anything _but_ aroused. Yet I do, and I can't help it.

I realize he has awakened this foreign part inside of me, something that hadn't existed within me before. Last night, what we did together... it awakened it, I think. This unquenchable sexual desire for him, this need to be with him sexually. He's changed me, and it's terrifying.

"Mm, I like this," Christian breathes out appreciatively after a moment, his voice throaty.

"Like _what_? Having me underneath you?"

He sits up slightly, sending me down even deeper on the mattress. "Definitely."

"Yeah, well, I think I actually like it, too." I laugh at how high pitched my voice sounds, how... unlike it usually does in tone. "It's pretty... scary."

" _Scary_? How?"

"I don't know." I bite down on my bottom lip, thinking of a way to describe it correctly. "You just... I feel like you've changed me. I don't know."

"Changed you? What do you mean?"

"Like I'm a... a ball of sheer sexual need or something. I don't know how to describe it exactly."

Christian stares down at me in silence for a moment, his face softening. He lifts his hand again, running his thumb over my bottom lip, making me release it from my teeth. I surprise him by using my teeth, catching the tip of his thumb, nipping it teasingly. A sharp intake of breath leaves him as I shake with silent laughter. There is a distinctive look he gets when he is aroused, I realize; His face slackens, his eyes going darker, his pupils dilating. It's _really_ sexy.

"What are we going to do once we have to head back home tomorrow?" he asks me in a serious tone.

I honestly don't want to think about that just yet. Tomorrow will be the end of our stay at Mom's and Dad's, and we will both have to go back to our normal lives with three hours worth of driving separating us.

"I don't know," I admit, a little knot forming in my stomach. "I honestly don't want to think about it right now. Let's just enjoy the time we have here together, _right_ now."

Out of nowhere, my mind drifts off to how it will be like heading back home. I imagine what Kate would think if she ever knew, if she ever caught us in bed together. It makes me cringe and shiver at her potential reaction, because I know she would probably be disgusted or sickened.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks me curiously. He runs his fingers slowly through my hair.

"Kate."

"Kate?" His eyes shine with amusement. "I'm on top of you, yet all you can think about is Kate?"

"I just wonder... how she'll react if she ever knew. How she'd... think if I told her about what's happened with you here."

Christian shrugs nonchalantly. "Who gives a shit?"

" _I_ do," I admit, hesitating. "She has always viewed our relationship as like a really close brother and sister bond. She'll probably... freak out." I cringe again in horror.

"Ana!" Mom's voice suddenly comes from downstairs, startling us. "Christian! Are you two ready?"

I am filled with sudden panic at the idea of her coming upstairs to find us on the bed like this. I start wiggling again, desperately trying to get up, yet he remains over me, blinking down at me as I struggle.

"Oh, no. We better go before your mother sees," he says with humor. "God forbid she sees us."

Finally, Christian stands off the bed, getting off me, and I stand, hurriedly fixing up my dress and my hair. I glance at Christian before I head out of the room, envious of how careless he seems. He slips into his blazer, his gray eyes filled with mirth. _How can he not be worried about Mom or Dad seeing us? How can he always be so calm and uncaring?_

"Are you both ready?" Mom asks as I get downstairs while still trying to frantically fix up my hair. I feel all flushed and sweaty. She is standing by the door with Ray, holding her keys to her car. "How are we doing this? Are we all going in the same car or what?"

Christian's shoes alert his pretense downstairs and I be cautious not to look at him. "We can take the one car," he says. "Whatever is easiest."

"All right. The one car it is. If both of you are ready, then let's make an early start and head off."

* * *

The restaurant we head out to for dinner is low-key and inexpensive. It's perfect for a family to just sit and eat to spend time together. We get shown to a table and I sit next to Mom, while Dad and Chris sit on the opposite side of us. I end up ordering salmon for dinner and so does Christian, while Mom and Dad choose steak. When Christian and Dad head up to the bar together to get us drinks, I watch them go, my eyes on nothing else but Christian as he stands up at the bar, leaning in to tell the bartender our orders.

I still feel so... strange. I feel like I'm aching all over, like I'm tender. Like my bones are all mushy. I really wish the feeling would go away, because it is difficult to act normal in front of Mom and Dad. Maybe Chris has turned me into a nympho?

"He's cute," Mom says, breaking me out of my staring.

 _Oh, yes,_ I think, flickering my eyes to Christian again. _He definitely is cute._

Something tells me that she isn't referring to Christian though unfortunately. With effort, I drag my eyes away, finding Mom smiling at me in a strange way. "Who, Mom?"

"That young man over there," she explains, jerking her chin to the guy sitting about four tables away from us. Immediately, he seems to meet my gaze, and he smiles. I smile back at him shyly before glancing Mom's way again, disturbed when she raises her eyebrows at me. "I think he likes you. I saw him checking you out in your dress when we all first walked in." She knocks her shoulder against mine. "He's your type, isn't he?"

"I don't really have a type, Mom," I mutter to her, glancing down at the table.

"Well, still. He's cute, right?" _Oh, God. I wish she wouldn't do this._

"Sure, if you're into the whole cougar thing," I tease, deliberately misunderstanding her. "But hey, if Dad's cool with it, then I say go for it, Mom. What have you got to lose?"

She gives me a look, laughter bubbling in her throat. "Honey, you _know_ I'm not talking about myself. I'm talking about _you_. Don't you think he's cute just even a little bit?"

 _Oh, God. Please stop._

I look at the guy again, judging him. So sure, he's cute I suppose. But he's no Christian. "Sure."

"You should go introduce yourself to him, huh?" Stop. "He definitely seems interested."

I sigh loudly in annoyance. "Please, Mom, no. I told you I'm happy with my single life the way it is. I _meant_ it."

I really wish she wouldn't do this. Why can't she just accept that I am happy with the way things are? And, besides, the only person I am remotely interested in being with, is Christian. It makes me feel uncomfortable when she pressures me.

I peer over at where Christian is again. He's carrying my glass of wine for me as well as his glass of alcohol, walking back with Dad; Both of them talking animatedly about something.

"Go on," Mom urges me, and when I glance her way again, she winks at me. "Live a little, honey. You only live once."

"I don't think so, Mom."

Christian places our glasses on the table, remaining standing for a second as he starts shuffling out of his blazer. The top three buttons on the collar of his white shirt are undone, showing off a bit of his chest.

"I'm sure we wouldn't mind if you are gone for a few seconds, would we?" Mom keeps up, speaking loudly to both Dad and Christian, really irritating me. "Besides our meals are most likely going to take a while to get here?"

"Wouldn't mind with what?" Christian asks in confusion, draping his blazer around the back of his chair. He sits, eyeing the two of us curiously, and I feel my stomach drop. "What does Ana want to do?"

Mom leans over the table towards him excitedly, "That young guy over there. I could have sworn he was checking Ana out when she came in."

 _Oh, my God!_ I feel like shouting at her. _Stop this now! Please, I don't want that guy!_

I reach out, grabbing my drink, sipping in two hugely needed gulps of my sweet Moscato when Christian turns in his seat to look at the guy Mom mentioned. I feel my cheeks redden when he turns back to look at us, shaking his head slightly.

"Who? The guy with the blonde hair wearing the shitty clothes? Do you _really think_ Ana has that bad taste when it comes to the opposite sex?"

I accidentally choke on a mouthful of my wine at his words. There is a definite edge to his tone; Christian isn't any fonder of the idea than I am.

"Bad taste?" Mom repeats incredulously. "Oh, please. He seems like a very lovely young man."

"To you, maybe," I mutter. "But please, Mom. I'm not interested.

"And _why_ not? What's wrong with him?"

I take in another gulp of my drink, wishing someone would kill me. _God, why won't she listen to me?_

"I actually need to go to the bathroom," I decide, getting to my feet. "Excuse me."

I walk hastily to the doors that lead into the restrooms, leaning against the wall for a second, breathing in deeply to calm myself down. I feel so trapped and pressured. Why can't Mom just take my word for it and see that I'm happy without a boyfriend and that I don't want to introduce myself to some random guy that _she_ thinks is cute? This could all be so easily resolved if I could just tell her that I'm interested in Christian, only I know I can't.

Regaining my clarity, I start moving towards the door again slowly, my eyes on the floor. Someone walks near me and out of nowhere, a hand grasps me by the upper arm, keeping me still. I gasp, startled by their masculine strength, but when I glance up, it's only Christian, thank goodness.

"Are you all right?" he asks me softly in concern.

I suck in a deep breath. "Not really. I just wish Mom would stop."

"Come with me." He starts steering me away by the arm, leading me back outside the entrance.

"Where are we going?" I ask, then I have to laugh at how serious my voice sounds. _Why should I care where he is taking me, really? Some fresh air will definitely do me some good._

We get outside the doors of the restaurant, standing around for a moment, Christian looking around for some reason. It's gotten darker since we have been inside and the air is refreshingly cool against my flushed skin.

"I just wish she would stop it," I say again, agitated. "I'm not interested in that guy in anyway whatsoever so why can't she just accept that and stop pressuring me?"

My mind goes wonderfully blank when Christian suddenly pushes me back against the building, his hands above my shoulders on the wall. It offers me that distraction I need perfectly.

"So you aren't interested in him in anyway whatsoever?" His gray eyes search my face carefully. Is he maybe... jealous?

"No, I'm not. _Definitely_ not."

"Well, good because... I don't think I could handle it if you were."

He's standing so close that I can hardly take it. Taking matters into my own hands literally, I lift up, cradling his face between them. I guess that is all the reassurance Christian needs because he bends down, kissing me in a way that he hasn't before, I don't think. It's a more urgent and desperate kiss, with an intensity there. As I kiss him back, he starts exploring my mouth with his warm tongue with abandon. I hear people walking past us to get in and out of the restaurant, yet I don't care. All that matters is this moment, and what's happening between us.

He slides his arms and hands around me, pushing me off the wall and into him, bending me slightly. By the time we break away, I'm left gasping needily for air, and when I glance at Christian, he is licking his lips, breathing just the same.

Our moment in the shower earlier comes back to me. _Tonight_. We'll be doing something _tonight_ , hopefully once Mom and Dad are asleep downstairs and it is safe to. I don't even know how I can possibly manage to wait that long. We have to get through dinner first.

"We better get back inside before they realize we are both out here," Christian suggests, placing a hand on my lower back, guiding me back in. And so, we do.

 **Hope this one was okay? Hope the length of the chapter was a bit better than last times, at least? :-) Thank you! Suggestions are most welcome on where you would like to see the story heading! Hope you enjoyed a bit of jealous Christian.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you so much! Hope you enjoy this one! :-)**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 12_**

Light spills into my old bedroom, waking me from my deep sleep. I stretch out, opening my eyes, realizing I hadn't even bothered closing the curtains in the room properly last night. Honestly, I had been a little too preoccupied with other things. Like what Christian had been doing to me blissfully last night.

 _Christian._

The panic surges throughout me when I sit up, staring at the person awake on the bed beside me. He's facing me with one arm tucked behind his head, looking the epitome of relaxation; the bundle of sheets curled so low on him that I can still tell he is completely naked beneath them from the waist downwards. Shit, Christian is still in the bed, in the room. If Mom or Dad so happened to come upstairs to check on either one of us, everything would be instantly ruined.

"You should probably think about getting dressed and quickly heading back into your room before either Mom or Dad wakes up," I whisper to him sensibly, turning slowly onto my side. "I'm not sure what time in the morning it actually is, but I think we _both_ know that they always had a habit of getting up extra early."

I expect him to leave at once and pay heed to my advice, only he doesn't. He simply turns on his side, mirroring me. He rests one elbow on the pillow, propping his head up on his hand, his hair messy. _Sex hair... So now I think I understand why they call it that._

I reach out, shoving him with a fist to the arm, sort of playfully. "You heard me."

"You've always liked hitting me, haven't you?"

Despite my serious worry, he ends up making me smile. "Yes, I _do_ actually enjoy hitting you. I won't deny that."

"You always treat me like I'm your punching bag. You always have."

"And _so_ have you," I point out.

"You know what I think it truly means?" He sits up, leaning closer towards me, putting his face near mine. "It means you like it rough." He whispers it playfully, like it's a scandalous secret.

It only makes a burst of heat hit my cheeks as I press my lips together tightly, trying to suppress a smile. "I'm not actually sure _what_ it means, but surely it doesn't mean _that_."

"Oh, I think that is _exactly_ what it means." Christian remains admirably straight-faced, yet embarrassment seeps its way in through me.

"You're really going crazy with the sexual innuendos lately, aren't you?" I laugh. "First, that thing you said about having sex in a pool yesterday, and _now_... about me liking it rough?"

He presses his lips together, stifling his own smile this time around. "I suppose I am, aren't I?"

"Yes. You've become incredibly... dirty-minded. _Even more_ than usual, I think. You never used to say stuff like that to me?"

He's silent for a moment, blinking down at me, feigning deep thought. "I guess that's true as well. I think its what you've... done to me, though."

"What _I've_ done to you?" I repeat, arching my eyebrows doubtfully. "What have _I_ done to you?"

Christian lays back down, covering his hands over his face, leaving me hanging. "I don't know," he mumbles into his hands. "I guess it's what you said before, about me changing you. You aren't the only one."

The idea of _me_ having such an effect on him, of making him feel sexually frustrated in return, it both relieves me and baffles me. Surely he's making it up, because how can _I_ possibly have that effect on him?

What he said to me in the car, our conversation, it comes back to me; How he said he loves me, but never like in the way that a brother loves his sister. I feel exactly the same way, and it dawns onto me that I hadn't said anything back. I hadn't told Christian how I felt. It's probably only fair that I do so he knows he isn't alone on this.

Yet, when I stare at him as he lets his hands fall from his face, I realize the words won't leave me. I am too much of a chicken. If I say, I'm worried something bad will happen. Like if I say it, if I speak it out loud, it will bring to light even more painfully of just how much I am betraying my parents in having sex with him, in having... _anything_ for him other than what should be within the boundaries of a respectful sibling relationship.

I just think it to him instead, wishing he had the ability to somehow read my mind. _You know how you told me in the car when I was trying to get you not to leave the family house early that you loved me? Well, right back at you, Chris. I love you too._

"We have to leave today," is what I settle on cowardly.

I hear him sigh loudly. "I know."

"You'll be in Seattle, and I'll be... in Vancouver. It's a long distance away." I don't even know why I'm talking about it. I feel a hard lump form in my throat, my heart feeling heavy. It's... depressing, thinking that I won't be able to see him again for a while. I think that was why I deliberately shut it out yesterday. It would have only made me feel miserable.

"Not by flight, it isn't. Four hours isn't _that_ long."

My mind struggles to find something new to talk about, something new to offer me a distraction from dwelling about it too much. "When did you first lose your virginity?" It's all I can think of. I probably shouldn't even be asking, because I know I will most likely feel ridiculously jealous. Yet I can't help feeling naturally curious to know when he did. "I don't remember you ever bringing any girlfriends home from school?"

"Does it really matter? Just when it was that I lost my virginity?"

I get the feeling that he is deliberately trying to not talk about it with me. "You're just trying to evade answering the question."

"Fine," he mutters under his breath, sighing loudly. "If it _really_ matters to you that much, Ana, then I'll tell you. I was about... fifteen, I think."

It's like my heart stops beating in my chest for a single second. Fifteen? How could he have been fifteen?

"But that doesn't make any sense," I say slowly. "Even at fifteen, I'm pretty sure you never bought any girlfriends around? I didn't even know you had a girlfriend at fifteen?" I had always assumed he lost his virginity in college. _Obviously not._

He glances away from me for a moment, licking his lips slowly. "She wasn't exactly my girlfriend."

"So you lost your virginity _at fiftee_ n during a one night stand?" I am dumbfounded, and I cannot hide it.

"No," he hisses impatiently, shaking his head. "It wasn't a one night stand. It was more like a... an irregular thing. I had sex with her about four times before it ended."

"So who was she? A girl from high school?" Just like that, a billion girl's faces from my memory of high school fills my vision. It could have been with any girl from high school, really. "I can't believe you kept that from me?"

"She never was at school at the time," he confesses after a moment, hesitating. "I mean, she... she was never a student."

"Okay? So... who was she then if not a student?"

Christian sighs loudly again, glancing down at a spot between us on the sheets. Then he raises his hand, combing his fingers slowly through his hair. Uneasiness radiates off him due to the topic; He's obviously uncomfortable about talking about it. "You remember the first job I ever had?"

"Um, yeah. You went around the neighborhood, mowing lawns, right?" I have no idea why he is bringing that up or why it even has any significance; the first job he ever had when he was younger.

"Exactly. I mowed her lawn."

Suddenly it all clicks, stunning me. _Oh, my God. Christian lost his virginity to one of the neighbors who let him mow their lawn for a bit of pocket money?_

"You lost your virginity to one of the neighbors that you were mowing lawns for?" I gasp in disbelief. "Holy shit. Which one was she?"

"Mrs Lincoln," he admits, embarrassed. "It was Mrs Lincoln."

"Mrs Lincoln?" I cannot believe it. Just hearing her name aloud, I remember her. She had always seemed so stuck up. Not to mention she loved rubbing it into everyone's faces just how much money her husband made. "Um, she was married? She had a husband?"

"I know. It happened while she was married."

"But she's like... twenty years older than you?" Immediately I feel sickened. "How could you have actually wanted to sleep with her? No, actually let me rephrase that," I say quickly, holding up a hand into the air, "It isn't so much about her age, it's... the fact that she was married at the time. Who instigated it?"

Chris shrugs, unconcerned. " _She_ had, at the time. I was more than happy to go along with it."

"You were fifteen though? That's pedophilia?"

"Pedophilia?" He cracks up laughing, angering me. "Number one, it can't be considered pedophilia when your over twelve and are way past puberty, Ana." He starts counting on his fingers, "Number two, it's different when your a guy. And lastly, number-"

"-Oh? It's different when your a guy?" I laugh out loud incredulously. "Is that how you are really going to rationalize it?"

" _She_ offered it. I took what I could gladly."

"The woman was a pedophile!"

"Come on, Ana. The world isn't all black and white," Christian says in irritation, like I'm being stupid. "Besides it was consensual. I had wanted it too at the time."

"Well, its disgusting and sick," I say. "I cannot _believe_ you didn't tell Mom and Dad about it!"

"Well, that is where you and I are different. Unlike _you_ , when we were kids, I didn't feel like I had to tell them what I was doing all the time." His words insult me. "Just like now, you haven't changed. You are twenty two years old and you just graduated from college, something that mostly Carla and Ray wanted for you. You always care _so much_ about what _they_ will think rather than how _you_ feel and what _you_ want, yet your an adult now."

"And it's wrong to be like that, Christian?"I mutter out in offense. He has definitely succeeded in hurting me. " _At least_ I care, which isn't something I can say for you. You don't care at all!"

"You're right, Ana," he argues back at me, his eyes blazing with anger. "I don't care."

"And _don't_ you _think_ you _should?_ "

"To an extent, sure. But if something makes you happy, then you should just... go for it and not care what the parents will think."

"Well, like you just said, it's impossible for me to do that. It isn't as easy for me to do that as it obviously is for you," I retort bitterly, sitting up, crossing my legs. The sheets fall down, exposing my chest, and I grab it hastily, covering myself modestly. "Like you just said, it's how I've always been. Even when we were kids. I _can't not_ care about how people react. That just wouldn't be me being who I am as a person!"

"Well, what do you want to do now that I have to head back to Seattle and you Vancouver?" It's like everything I have just said has sailed straight past him, like he hasn't even listened to a single word I just said. Yet, if he is trying to distract me and change subject, he has succeeded.

"I don't know what to do."

"Do you want to do something together this weekend then?"

"We _have_ been doing something together. This _is_ the weekend still."

"I meant _next_ weekend." Christian sighs loudly, sitting up himself. The sheet falls off him, yet he isn't so concerned about covering himself up as I was. He leaves his broad shoulders and chest exposed to me. "I can catch a flight back to Vancouver so that we can spend the weekend together?"

"And what? You sleep over at the apartment in my bed, only for Kate to catch us and feel completely weird over it?" _God, I just can't help it._

"If you are that worried about it, then I'll rent out a room in a hotel and you can sleep with me there, Ana. It wouldn't be so hard."

He gets to his feet and I know I'm seriously pissing him off. I just can't stop. I find I have to glance away when he moves around the bed, completely naked. He finds his jeans, sliding into them. Looking at his gorgeous backside even... it's too much to handle right now.

I sigh heavily. "I'm sorry that I keep saying things like that," I whisper guiltily. "I don't even know why I care so much. I just do."

"Or you can catch a flight to Seattle to see my new apartment?" He ignores my comment. But that's Chris for you; He can always seem to look on the bright side of things. "If your worried about not being able to afford it, then I can easily pay it for you."

"I wouldn't need you to pay for my flight there and back. I have a job too, so affording it shouldn't be a problem." Finally, I find enough courage to glance in his direction. He watches me, fully dressed now. There is no anger or anything in his expression like I had feared there would be had I dared to look at him.

"Then that's what you want?"

"It _would_ be great to see you more now that we've... done this the past few nights. I just worry that if Mom or Dad tries to visit the apartment where I live in with Kate unannounced, that they'll-"

"For fuck sake, Ana," he bursts out angrily, though he keeps his voice under control with some effort.

I regard him warily. "What?"

"Either you want this or you don't. Frankly, I can't stand seeing you do this to yourself."

"Do _what_?" My voice cracks and breaks when I realize when he is doing. He reaches the bedroom door.

"Look, I'll leave it up to you, all right?" He's trying to keep his voice low and gentle. "You decide. Either you come to Seattle this weekend or you don't. If you don't end up coming, I'll understand what this meant for you then." He gives me a last, long look before reaching out, opening the door. "No pressure, but I _do_ hope you choose to do what you know will make you happy." Then he leaves, closing the door gently behind him.

It's funny, because I hear it close yet it barely registers in my mind. I sit on the bed, not daring to try to move, for what feels like twenty minutes later, staring at the place by the door that I last saw him at before he left.

I should have told him that I love him back.

I shouldn't have mentioned Mom and Dad again. Or Kate.

 _It's over. The weekend at Mom and Dad's house is finally over._ He's leaving back to Seattle, where who knows how long it will be until we finally see each other again.

But a strange sense of clarity overcomes me as I force myself to stand and get dressed. I know what I have to do, and Chris is right.

The instance I get back into the apartment, I am going to look online to see if I can book the cheapest flight I can get possible to Seattle to see him on the weekend coming.

 **I know, I know. I skipped the lemon and I'm sorry! Some will be included in next chapter when Ana visits to his apartment in Seattle :-) Hope you will forgive me and that you liked this chapter. P.S: Sorry if Ana is annoying. She is just worried but I promise from this point forward, she won't care as much or worry about Carla and Ray finding out now that they are out of the house.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you so much! So sorry for taking such a long time to update! Hope you enjoy this one! :-)**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 13_**

My bags were packed and ready for the flight into Seattle; It was just the basics, like my toothbrush, a few articles of clothing and underwear, and a book to read during the flight. Kate sits around in the living room, helping me make sure I have everything I'll need for my three day stay.

"Sucks that I'll be stuck here," she says glumly. "I wish I could go with you. I hate being stuck in the same place for too long."

"I know," I say sympathetically. "But maybe next time you can come with me?" I suggest hopefully. "That way you can visit Christian and see where he lives, too?"

I wish I could tell her what's really happening; That Christian and I are sort of together, that we slept together during the three day weekend at the old family house. It's really hard not being able to talk to one of the people you are the most closest to, but I know realistically that I could never tell Kate. She wouldn't understand and I don't think I would be all that ready to have to deal with her judging me or being disgusted about it, particularly when she sees me and Christian as just a good brother and sister relationship.

"You'll text me once you get off the plane, right?" she says. "Otherwise I'll be stressing out thinking something might have happened to you."

"Of course, Kate. I'll definitely text you the instance I'm off that plane and have safely arrived in Seattle."

"Cool. And you better, Ana."

"I will, I swear."

She nods, pleased. We check my bag again, sorting through the stuff I'm taking with me. "Okay, so... I think you've got everything for three days? Three pairs of fresh underwear... bras. Clothes for all occasions. Toothbrush, hairbrush. Think that's everything."

"Great." I smile at her thankfully. "Thanks so much for your help. I just hope I won't get lost once I leave the airport."

"Chris knows your coming to see him, right?"

I hesitate to answer, because he doesn't know. Not really. "I kind of wanted to surprise him, so no. He doesn't know as yet, Kate."

"Ana," she scolds me while helping me zip up my bag completely. "You better text him before you catch your flight otherwise you're gonna get lost. Do you even know his address?"

"Nope."

"Gee, I thought you were better prepared than that?"

"Fine," I relent with a sigh. "I'll text him to ask where he lives without revealing why and then I'll turn up on his doorstep unannounced. Happy?"I grab my phone, sending Christian a very cryptic and mysterious text asking for his address. Hopefully he won't work it out because I _do_ want to surprise him. "Okay, it sent through, Kate. Surely I'll get the text with his address once I reach the airport, so relax. Okay?"

"Okay." She reaches out, throwing her arms around me. "Have fun. Think of poor me while I'm stuck here, bored to death."

I laugh. "I'm sure you'll find something to do."

We hear the honking of a horn which tells us my ride has arrived to take me to the airport. I gather my things quickly rushing towards the door. Then I stop, frantically double-checking that I have my flight ticket still in my wallet.

"Don't forget to text me once you've reached the airport, okay?" Kate calls loudly once I fling the front door open. "If not, I suppose I'll hear it on the news?"

"Ha ha." Her saying that makes me even more nervous, because I have never liked flying. "Thanks for making me feel way more nervous, Kate. Now I'll be paranoid the plane will crash."

"Have fun. Text me."

* * *

The flight to Seattle was even more scarier than I had counted on.

The last time I think I flew somewhere was when I was around nine years old, and I hadn't enjoyed it then. Even now, I still don't enjoy it. The flight was rocky and there was some heavy turbulence when the plane went up. Reading my book hadn't helped, because I started feeling ill after awhile with motion sickness, but it got better after awhile.

Once I grab my luggage and climb off the plane, I switch my phone on again, telling Kate I've arrived safely. Then it vibrates and I open the text to see that, surely enough, I have received a text from Christian. He's given me the address to his new apartment, which definitely helps. I guess Kate was right; I wasn't very organized after all. Who knows what I would have done if I had gotten lost?

Christian doesn't sound too suspicious in the text so hopefully he doesn't know yet that something is up. I just hope I can find his apartment all right, but fortunately I have directions now that I can catch a cab with to take me precisely where I am supposed to go.

The driver in the cab takes my luggage for me, putting it in the back of the car, and then when I hop in, I give him the directions. I am excited to see where Christian lives, yet I also find myself feeling a bit... nervous. There is an ever-present knot there in my stomach, one that won't seem to go away. Mainly it's just worrying how he will react once he sees me standing there on his doorstep.

Christian should be at least a little relieved and happy that I've come, shouldn't he? After all, he sort of gave me an ultimatum: If I don't come this weekend, he'll think what happened between us was just a casual thing. I don't want to risk him thinking that, because it was _anything but_ a casual thing for me as well.

At least it will be different and we will be able to relax more under difference circumstances; I won't be annoying him by worrying about Mom and Dad finding us together, not if we are staying in his apartment- a place they have never even been in before.

It should be fun, yet despite that, I can't help the nerves that are racing within me.

Once the driver pulls the car over to the side of the road, I get out and he helps me with taking my luggage again out of the car. He points out a large complex of grey stone buildings with verandas and a large neat lawn out front for all of the tenants, which makes it easier to figure out which apartment is his. I'll just need to look properly at the numbers on the doors until I find Christian's.

I pay for my fare then yank open the handle on my luggage bag, wheeling it across the street.

My hands actually start to tremble when I start stepping up the concrete steps, glancing around at the numbers on the apartment buildings. I end up having to go two more flights of stairs to find where his apartment is. It ends up being on the third floor, and once I reach the door, I take a moment, breathing heavily while trying to clear my nerves.

I have no idea why I'm so nervous the way I am. I suppose I just hope I have accomplished it in surprising him by turning up.

I knock on the door before stepping back, feeling ridiculously shy all of a sudden when I hear his voice. Why I'm shy when I've known Christian basically all my entire life, I have no idea.

"Coming," he calls, and once that door opens, he pulls it back slowly all the way, staring at me. He looks shocked to see me, and happy, and all things at once. He blinks at me heavily, like he's stunned. Then a big, wide smile slowly comes across his mouth, showing me his gleaming, straight teeth, and my heart leaps in my chest; those stupid nerves almost immediately evaporating. "Ana. You actually made it," he says warmly, a little breathless.

" _Of course_ I did. You seem so surprised?"

"Well, I _am_ surprised." He leans against the open door slightly, his gray eyes roaming up and down what I'm wearing appreciatively, that smile still there frozen on his face. "When I didn't hear anything from you all week, I actually wasn't so sure you were going to come."

"That's because I wanted to keep it a secret until I showed up on your doorstep."

"Here, let me help you." He moves from the door, reaching down to grab my luggage.

I follow him into his apartment, glancing around curiously. I have always wondered where Christian lives, and how he lives, especially when I was younger and he had moved away from home so abruptly. Now, I'm getting to experience it for once. It's kind of everything I imagined it would be; Clean, with sparse pieces of decorations on the walls. Minimal furniture, but still neat and modern.

"I haven't gotten around to cleaning the house much yet, but I would have had I known you were planning to come."

"Well, I don't know, Christian. It looks pretty neat to me regardless of whether you've cleaned or not."

Christian sets my luggage down in his kitchen, turning to glance at me again. I look around nervously, into his living room, at his large U-shaped couch that could probably sit over eight people, his large entertainment unit and massive flat-screen TV. It's everything I think I've imagined of how his house would have been, how it would look like.

I look his way again, finding him still watching me. Now that I'm here, it's kind of... awkward. I have no idea what to do or what to say? And apparently, neither does he. He simply stares at me, smiling while shoving one hand into the pocket of his trousers. I think he's stunned out of his wits by my arrival. _Shit. Maybe he changed his mind during the week and he hadn't wanted me to come to Seattle on the weekend anymore?_

"You still wanted me to come visit for the weekend, didn't you?" I ask apprehensively, folding my hands out in front of me. "Because if not, I'm sorry but you're kind of... stuck with me for _three entire days_ until I can head back to Vancouver?"

He pulls his hand back out of his pocket slowly, lifting it up to rake his fingers through his hair, the muscles in his pale forearm flexing. "Then I'm glad that I have you stuck here with me for three days. I'm glad you decided to come, even if you... didn't tell me in advance."

He moves closer towards me, breaking the distance between us.

Then he lifts up a hand to run his fingers through the side of my hair, softly, tenderly. He pushes a strand behind my earlobe. "I really didn't think you were gonna come," he says quietly, running his fingers slowly down the side of my face, below my chin.

"Well, I'm _here_ , aren't I?" I murmur softly, feeling strangely winded at his closeness, his touching. "So what does that tell you?"

His eyes search my face deeply for a moment, something glinting in his, though I'm not sure what. "What should it tell me?"

I can't seem to hold it back anymore; What he said to me at Mom and Dad's on the weekend, I should have said it back, yet I hadn't. I felt so foolishly scared, so... worried something bad might have happened if I did. It doesn't matter now though. "When you said last weekend that you... you loved me, I was supposed to say it back. I _meant_ to."

Uncertainty grows in his eyes as he stares at me. "So you love me back?" I nod, feeling a gush of overwhelming emotion hit me. " _Say_ it. I want to hear it."

"Mom and Dad won't be happy about this but... I love you _too_."

A beatific smile comes across Christian's face, then he cups my face between his hands, bending down to kiss me, his lips urgent, passionate, open-mouthed and quick to move against mine.

I start to feel something take over, something other than nerves, something far different, when one of his hands moves, going beneath the fabric of my shirt, slowly moving upwards. His thumb strokes around my rib cage as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss with his tongue, and then, suddenly I feel hot all over; Hot, tender, tingling and moist in places when he pushes his fingers under the cup of my bra greedily, his palm flattening over my nipple, fingers squeezing gently at one of my breasts.

We are breathing heavily, panting all over each other as we break the kiss, our lips parting as we catch our breath.

Like two people short on time, he slips his hand back out from under my shirt, grabbing the bottom of it, telling me to lift up my arms sternly and pulling it up and off me. Then he's grabbing the neck of his shirt, yanking it off his head and flinging it carelessly on the floor and as he steps closer, he slips his muscular arms around me, holding me close, his skin hot with mine. Next thing I know, one thing is quickly leading to another and we are spread out on his large couch, his jeans pulled halfway down and my trousers and underwear pulled to my ankles as well.

And being greeted in this way has honestly never felt better.

 **Sorry about the length of this chapter, sorry for my tardiness with updating. Life has been busy :-) Hope you enjoyed this one anyway, and I promise next chapter won't be as short (and fairly uneventful)! I know its probably a bit too sweet and fluffy but it won't be for long once drama ensues lol.**

 **Thank you for the lovely PM's I have received and the alerts, it is much appreciated! If you have any suggestions or ideas you would like to see in the story, feel free to let me know. I never know if I'm doing all right with writing so its nerve wracking.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you so much! So sorry for taking such a long time to update! Hope you enjoy this one! :-)**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 14_**

After our blissful little reunion, Christian enthusiastically takes me around the neighborhood where he lives, showing me around. We spend the rest of the day with him taking me to places in Seattle, giving me a grand tour, holding each other's hands the entire way. I can't help noticing that I feel so much lighter and happy, and less... stressed.

I think its because, at the back of my mind, I'm constantly aware that no one could possibly catch us to demand awkward explanations from us. We can't run into Mom and Dad because they're so far away from Seattle in another state; We don't have to worry about running into someone we know, like Kate or our parents or any of my- or his- friends from back home.

He takes me to the Woodland Park Zoo, which probably excites me most of all. I've always loved animals and I can't even remember the last time I've been to the zoo; I think maybe when I and Christian were about thirteen and fifteen, our parents took us. There's gorillas, tigers, wild bears and even toucans and it ends up being something I really enjoying seeing, even at the age I am now at twenty two, juvenile as it is.

We spend almost four hours there until its time to leave and the zoo reaches closing time, the sky getting grayer and darker. I never noticed it much when I was younger, but I seem to notice it now, while holding hands, on just how much faster Christian walks compared to me. I can't even seem to properly catch my breathe when he pulls me along into the busy streets.

"Why are you in such a rush right now?" I ask him with a laugh.

Chris looks confused as he peers down at me. "I'm not, am I?"

"Yeah, it kind of feels like you are? I feel like your just pulling me along like I'm your rag-doll?"

He purposefully slows his pace with a bashful smile, scratching his chin. "I just booked us a reservation at a nice restaurant for dinner."

"Shouldn't we get changed into some clean clothes first?" I'm only wearing jeans and a T-shirt with sneakers; Something I feel is not entirely suitable for a special outing out at a restaurant for a nice dinner.

"That's what I was planning. We'll go back to my apartment first, get changed, and then we'll go."

By the time we get to his apartment, my feet are aching all ready from being on them all day. But I really do want to go out to dinner with him- something we have never really done before- so I open my luggage, finding the nicest dress Kate helped me pack. As it turns out, having Kate to help assist me in knowing what to bring to wear had turned out to be the best thing I'd done.

Christian takes his bedroom while I head into the bathroom with my dress, shoes, and make-up bag. The only dress I really brought along for my weekend stay is a rouge cocktail dress, knee-length, and a pair of beige one-inch heels.

Once I've changed into the dress, I sit down on the edge of the bathtub, pushing my feet into my heels. Then as I stand ungracefully, I contemplate either doing my hair up or keeping it down. Keeping it down seems more formal, so I decide to do that, opening my make-up bag and finding my lipstick. I purse my lips in the mirror, coating them a dark shade of red, and then I feel I'm done.

I have no idea if this was the type of outfit Chris wanted me to wear for dinner, but it will have to do. It's better to feel comfortable enough to eat and be seen in public. When I switch off the light in the bathroom, grabbing all the clothes I wore today at the zoo and while we were wandering around Seattle while Chris gave me the tour, Christian steps out of his bedroom, fully changed.

I stop what I'm doing in folding up my clothes to repack them into my bag to actually gawk at him like an idiot. It still feels oddly surreal somehow that I'm actually here, that I actually made the trip all the way to Seattle. What's more, I cannot seem to believe how amazing things are between us now, that Christian by some miraculous chance feels the same way that I do about him. I'd been stressing about my feelings for him for years, deeming them wrong and unrequited, and yet, here we were.

He wears black trousers and a white button-up shirt, a long black overcoat slung over it, reaching just below his knees. I've always found Christian to be so handsome. But now that we've actually kissed, now that we've actually been intimate in all the ways that I've dreamed and longed for to be true, he's all the more handsome to me now.

It seems I'm not the only one gawking though. When I deliberately avert my eyes to shove my clothes neatly back into my suitcase, I glance up at him as he passes me to grab his apartment keys, finding his eyes roaming down what I'm wearing. Just the way he looks at me, so appreciatively with his gray eyes, it makes me feel warm all over.

"Ready?" he asks me softly, his eyes doing a quick inspection of my dress again as he fiddles with the keys in both hands.

"Yep, I think I'm ready. Are you ready?"

"I definitely am."

He extends his arm out to me, holding his hand out, waiting for me to take it, his fingers spread eagerly. I slip my hand through his, feeling a tiny smile pull up the corners of my lips as we step out the front door, stopping for a second while he locks up the apartment. I don't think I will ever get used to how great it feels to be holding his hand as if we're a real couple that are dating. I know we haven't exactly defined what this is- or whether we are in an actual relationship now- but I love it all the same.

He takes me to a restaurant about a fifteen minutes walk from his apartment, which is great for me in the heels I'm wearing and my already achy feet, really. He releases my hand for a moment to pull the door open for me, and I take in a few deep breaths before stepping in, squaring my shoulders. I feel anxious even though I am not entirely sure why that is. I have no real reason to, considering I've known Christian basically my whole life. It's just that we have never done this before. Going out to dinner together, in a restaurant, alone... almost as a couple, it's something romantic and special.

A quick glance around the restaurant tells me I'm neither undressed nor overdressed, at the very least. I'm somewhere in the middle, and that relieves me.

The hostess looks up from her desk. "Do you have a reservation, sir?"

"Yes, actually, I booked in a table for two just this morning at around twelve thirty." I realize he must have booked in for the restaurant sneakily while I had made a hasty bathroom run after he welcomed me into his apartment with one delightfully intense orgasm. "For Christian Grey."

 _Christian Grey?_ It makes the breath hitch in my throat. _Grey? He's not Christian Steele anymore; He mustn't go by his surname when he was adopted anymore, which is news to me. No, instead he's Grey._

It takes the woman less than a minute to find his name for his booking, and then she smiles, handing us both two menus. Christian slips a hand on the middle of my back, guiding me forward to follow the woman towards our table for the evening. Like a gentleman and as if we're on a first date and he is trying his very hardest to impress me, Chris brushes past me to pull open my seat. I slide into it with a thankful smile, folding my hands in my lap nervously as he takes the seat opposite me.

"Now that you're both settled into your seats, is there anything I can get you first before you look over the menu? A drink?"

"Could we look at the wine menu?" Christian asks her with a certain domineering tone to his voice that I've never heard from him before.

"Yes, of course. Here's our wine menu, Sir." She hands the menu to him with a flourish. "The prices are just on the left side there."

Christian reads it for a few minutes while the hostess stands there awkwardly, waiting. Then when he seems done with it all, he nods, passing it back to her. "We'll have a bottle of your best champagne for starters."

"Yes, sir. I'll be right back with the bottle and glasses." With one last smile exchanged to the both of us, she leaves to get our champagne.

Christian must realize he feels too hot in the overcoat, because he stands from his chair suddenly, unbuttoning it and removing it, his eyes on mine all the while with a smile there. He's really not the only one feeling too warm in here, though I don't know about him but... for me anyway, he's the main cause for my fluctuating rise in temperature in the restaurant.

He drapes the overcoat around the back of his chair, then he sits again, straightening out the collar on his shirt. "You don't mind champagne, do you?"

"No, I don't mind. Champagne's just a little... fancy. The bottles probably going to be really expensive."

"Well, this _is_ an special occasion, wouldn't you think? I don't think we've ever had dinner like this before. I might as well try to wine and dine and romance you as much as humanly possible."

 _Wine and dine and romance me, indeed._

I'm silent for a moment when the hostess arrives back with two sparkling clean wine glasses. She places our glasses on each side of us, then places a stainless-steel wine cooler with our bottle of champagne directly into the middle of the table. I'd hate to know how much the full bottle costs, but Chris hardly looks phased at all.

"I'll do that," Christian says, objecting when the hostess goes to take the champagne out of the cooler.

"Okay then. Are you both ready to order yet?"

I settle on the nicest thing I read, which for me, is peppered steak and a side salad, while Christian settles on the same after hearing my order. I just feel in a steak mood for some reason. Once the hostess leaves with our orders, Chris stands, removing the bottle from in the cooler.

Then he opens it, the cork letting loose a big noise from around the room, and I can't help the laugh that escapes from me when people turn to look at us. He pours both of us a very generous amount of the bubbling champagne, then he returns to his seat.

I'm just about to take a curious sip of the champagne when he stops me by raising his glass towards me.

"To us," he toasts, though I don't know why he feels its necessary.

"To us," I repeat breathlessly, chinking my glass against his before taking a small sip into my mouth, letting it sit there for a moment before swallowing it down, Christian's eyes holding mine in as he swallows his mouthful down, licking his lips. "Very nice," I say, commenting on the champagne.

I'm still stuck on why it was that she hadn't addressed Christian by his surname, though- _my_ surname. Had he changed his name over the years?

"Why did she call you Grey?" I ask curiously. "You booked in the reservation under the name Christian Grey? What happened to Steele? Did you change your surname?"

Christian drags his tongue over his lower lip as he leans back in the chair, his fingers playing with the stem of his glass. "I did. I actually investigated into my ancestry. According to my birth certificate before the adoption with Carla and Ray, my birth name was Christian Grey."

"So you aren't a Steele anymore by last name?" I ask in shock. If Mom and Dad found out, I know they wouldn't be too pleased.

"That's right. I thought it was... time that I went back to my actual last name."

"Since when?"

"Since a couple of years ago, I think."

"And what else did you find out about your ancestry?" I can't deny I'm curious. Christian's past has always been a true mystery to me. I know of his difficult childhood and the unfortunate circumstances of them, but that's basically it.

"I found out my late, late ancestors were Irish. Apparently I have a bit of... Irish blood in me. On my mother's side, she was part German also."

"Wow, that's amazing."

I sip at my champagne again, resting an elbow on the table. I start rubbing the side of my neck with my fingers, amazed at how warm it is in the restaurant. I'm not so sure if its just me that feels that way, but it is to me, even in my dress.

As I take in another mouthful of the champagne, parched, I meet Christian's eyes, still stroking around my throat and up towards my chin. A peculiar expression comes across his face as his eyes drift down towards what my fingers are doing, his face slackening, mouth parting. His eyes darken and I notice the dilation of his pupils. When he leans forward across the table towards me, I feel my heart rate pick up.

"I didn't tell you how beautiful you look in that dress, did I?" His voice sounds gravelly and strained. It's weird. "Honestly, I'm glad you made it here. All week, since I hadn't heard from you I had a feeling that you weren't going to come, but... now that you are, I'm pleased I have you all to myself for a few days."

"All to yourself?" Even to my ears, my voice sounds funny. Breathless and hoarse. "That sounds very promising?"

He opens his mouth- about to say something back- but we are interrupted when the hostess returns with our meals. She slides both our plates on the table, and as I glance down at mine, it looks great. Mouthwatering, even. I stop stroking my neck to pick up my silverware, immediately digging in, famished after the long day we've had of walking around with Chris acting as my tour guide, and he does the same. We spend a few minutes in silence eating, chewing down our meals. Then the silence feels strange so I try to break it.

"Are you liking living in Seattle?"

"It's all right," he says, shrugging. He seems to have to think it over seriously for a second. "It's kind of lonely, but I like it better here."

"Lonely?"

"All I seem to do is work constantly. It gets that lonely that it isn't hard to start missing a lot of things."

"Have you heard from Mom and Dad?" I ask through a mouthful of steak.

"No, I haven't, Anastasia. I haven't spoken to them since staying over at the family house for the weekend." I catch the curtness of his tone, as if I've said something wrong. When I glance up at him in confusion, I see he has paused with eating, using his napkin to wipe around his mouth. "Why. Have you?"

I swallow a chunk of steak down before answering, "Strangely enough, no, I haven't. Usually Mom calls me every week but I haven't heard from her yet."

"Yes, she tries to call me every week too," he mutters, though I get the sense he isn't too pleased speaking about her. I have no idea why, though. _Why does talking about Mom and Dad make him feel so funny?_ "Half the time, I ignore Carla's calls or just don't answer them. Call me an asshole, but its just what I do."

"That's a bit mean, isn't it? Deliberately ignoring Mom's phone calls?"

"I never once claimed I was a saint, Ana. Surely you know as much as I do from experience that, when Carla tries to talk to you on the phone, she tends to get a little... long-winded with the conversations. It's annoying."

" _Of course_ I've noticed that. I know that sometimes I definitely get annoyed when she tries to talk to me while I'm trying to do other things. But she means well. She _always_ means well. She just wants to know how we're doing. She cares about us."

"I _know_ she does. It's half the problem."

He sighs loudly through his mouth, ignoring my gaze as he picks up his glass, taking three hasty mouthfuls in. He's definitely not happy about me bringing the topic of Mom and Dad up; I can tell.

"Sorry," I get out quietly. "I didn't realize talking about Mom and Dad would be such an issue for you?"

"For fuck sake, Anastasia." He sighs again, angrily, dropping his cutlery to his plate loudly. He steeples his fingertips on both hands together, holding them over his forehead as he dips his head, his lips pressed into a tight grim line. I've said and done something wrong, and I know it. I don't have the power to take it back though, so I can only sit there, helpless. He's like that for about twenty seconds, until he lifts his head up, bringing his hands away. I can still sense his annoyance when he collects his silverware again, slicing through his steak. "Let's just not talk about Carla and Ray right now."

"Why not?" I blab out in confusion. And a bit of irritation there myself, I may as well admit. "Why can't we talk about them?" I feel my heart race in a panic as I realize why his reaction must be. He feels guilty. I'm evidently not the only one who has felt that way ever since this started between us at Mom and Dad's house sometimes lately. "Do you feel bad?" I ask apprehensively.

He blinks at me, confused, shaking his head once in misunderstanding. _"Bad_ about what?"

"About _us_? About us... being here like this? _Doing this_ together?"

"Honestly?" He sets an elbow on the table, rubbing around his eyelids with his fingers. "No, I don't feel bad or guilty at all. I believe I already made it perfectly clear onto you on just how right I feel this to be, Ana. When your away... I feel like I can't even concentrate, I can't get you out of my head. It's like you're in there every single minute of every hour." When he reopens his eyes to look at me bleakly, letting his hand fall from his eyes, he squints at me, his face soft with concern. "Why? Do _you_ feel guilty right now? Do you... regret this?"

"No, I don't regret it," I admit, knowing it to be true with all my heart.

He reaches over across the table, clasping one of my hands in his, playing with my fingers. What seems to be a sigh of sheer relief leaves him when he brings my hand up towards his face, letting me feel the scratchy stubble around his chin, kissing the back of it a few times in a way that makes my heart ache dreadfully as I bite my lip.

"I guess I _do_ feel guilty at times, mainly for lying and going behind their back, but I don't regret this. But what's your problem then whenever I mention them?"

Chris leans back in the chair, letting my hand go, shaking his head as I wait with baited breath. I just don't understand why he can be fine one minute, then act strange and moody in the next just as quickly. He lifts a hand, raking his fingers through his hair slowly.

"There's no problem, Ana," he says through gritted teeth, and I can tell he's trying to reign his temper in by how quiet and controlled he keeps his voice. "Everything's fine. I would just appreciate it from now on, now that we're here, now that your... staying for a couple of days, if you could refrain from even mentioning Ray or Carla into the conversation at all. Do you think you can do that?"

He holds my gaze imploringly, the anger gradually fading away from his eyes, replacing with desperation as he blinks at me slowly.

"I've just noticed that every time we're together- especially at the house last week- it would turn quickly into an argument when we did. Due to that and nothing else, I'd like it if we could just go the entire weekend without talking about them. I don't know about you, but... I don't want to be arguing this weekend."

As I take in the meaning of his words, I feel my own irritation soften and disappear. He's right, and it is true. We fought a lot last time- the arguments mainly stemming from my own guilt over what we were doing behind my parents backs. He's right. We shouldn't talk about Mom or Dad. Instead, we should just focus on having a fun and enjoyable time together while we can. I don't exactly want to be arguing all weekend with him, either.

"Your right," I agree, and Chris seems to relax. "We _do_ seem to argue a lot when we talk about them and that isn't something I want either. We just won't mention them all weekend."

"Thank you," he breathes in relief. He reaches across the table with his hand again, finding mine, stroking the back of my knuckles with his forefinger.

"No, you're right. We just won't talk about them at all."

Even as I promise it, I know it will be hard. Mom and Dad have always been our common-ground, because we both love and care for them. They have always been an important part in both of our lives equally. But he's right; For the sake of having a pleasant weekend, we just won't be able to talk about them. I can do that easily. I _think_.

 **So sorry I took a long time to update. Real life has been crazy busy. Hope you enjoyed this one and are still liking the story okay? I would love to know your thoughts :-) I promise to update more regularly again, I think life has settled down quite a bit :) P.S, Sorry if I write Ana in a way that annoys you; She'll get better and eventually, as it turns out, she'll have good reason to feel worried about the parents finding out. Sorry if I've made her incredibly immature-seeming and annoying, she's just a neurotic worrier while Christian's a bit hot-headed and resentful in some sense over having Carla and Ray as his parents! I'm sorry!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you so much! ! :-) Hope you like this one? As usual, I'm so nervous for your reception!**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 15_**

I lean my hip against the dresser, grinning, as I write the text.

 _I hope you are still coming tonight, If you can make it? Miss you so, so badly. Thanks again for an amazing weekend last week, showing me around Seattle's main landmarks. XX_

Last weekend with Christian had seemed to go so quickly. By the time we were really starting to enjoy ourselves, already I had to return back to Vancouver. This week has turned out to be surprisingly hard without him, though I've been suffering quietly, with not letting anyone else know.

I used to think about Christian a lot normally, wondering what he was up to when we hadn't been in contact for months. Now, it's even worse, because now that we are actually together, I feel like my heart is swelling and swelling even more along with his absence. It's like it's impossible to get him out of my brain; Probably the first irrational and foolish stages of love, sure. But it's true, and I can't seem to. Small things like music lyrics or just a particular image seems to make me think of him.

Kate and I are supposed to go out clubbing tonight, because it's a Friday and we don't have anything to do in the morning. I had told Christian over the phone when he had called me last night, and he had said that he would try drive over and stay over at the apartment for the weekend. I told Kate the plans- with some important details skipped, of course, like the fact that Chris would probably be sneaking into my bedroom during the night- and she was cool with it.

I know for certain that Kate definitely does not suspect anything.

I cried the first night when I got back into Vancouver while lounging around on the sofa, heartsick with missing him, but in her eyes, she considered it utterly normal for a sibling to miss their other sibling when they seem as close as Kate believes we are. I feel terrible lying to her, because usually I never keep anything from Kate and she's always there to provide her support, but I know keeping this from her has to be done. I know Kate that well that I know how her reaction would be.

I have a four hour shift to get through at Clayton's and then, hopefully, once we head out tonight I'll see Christian there. Already in my work uniform, I head into the bathroom, brushing my teeth. Then my phone vibrates loudly from where I've put it on the basin. I spit and rinse my toothbrush out hastily, expecting and anticipating for it to be Christian.

But it's not. Caller I.D says its Mom. Shit.

I inhale in a deep breath before answering her call, holding the phone to my ear. "Oh, hey, Mom."

"Hello, darling. I just wanted to call and check in to see how you're doing?"

"I'm doing great. I actually have to hang up and leave for work in a few minutes. How are things with you and dad?"

"Pretty good. I just wanted to tell you and thank you. Your father and I had a wonderful weekend with you and your brother when you came to the house. Did you have a good time?"

The way she calls Christian my brother makes my stomach churn. What we had done last weekend while in Seattle was most definitely not brotherly and sisterly in the slightest.

"Yeah, Mom. I had an awesome time."

"And what about Christian?" Her voice sounds worried. "I haven't been able to get into contact with him, because he hasn't returned my calls, but... have you heard from him?"

"Yeah, I've heard from him. We, um... I actually stayed in Seattle with him last weekend." It's not a bad thing to admit to, right? At least I'm telling her half of the truth.

"Oh, really? Honey, that's great. How is he?"

"He's really good, Mom. I stayed in his apartment over there, and it's really nice. He seems really... happy."

"Well, that's excellent to hear, honey." It's goes awkwardly silent between us for a few seconds. I consider saying goodbye, to tell her that I need to go, but when I muster the courage to, she starts talking again, "So any news?"

"Any news? Of what, Mom?"

"Any luck with the whole dating scene?"

I roll my eyes, sighing loudly. What would it hurt, really? "Yes, actually. I've met someone."

"Really? Who?" Her voice has risen in glee. "Can we meet him?"

"I don't think so, Mom. It's not... all that serious yet. We just started dating." After a bit more talking, I finally manage to get her to say goodbye and hang up. I can't help feeling slightly guilty for what I just said to her. Was it the wrong thing? Would she keep going on about it, trying to get me to name who I'm dating? But it also feels oddly cathartic, getting it off my chest- in minor, small details, anyway.

The time at Clayton's seems to go mind-numbingly slow. By the time I finish and I leave, Christian still hasn't texted me to confirm whether he intends to come along still or not.

After getting home and having a small dinner with Kate, we get dressed, and once I get the details from her on which club we are heading out to tonight, I text Christian the address hastily, just in case. It seems he won't be able to show, though, considering he hasn't replied.

It's seven thirty by the time we leave and reach the club. It's fairly cold outside tonight, and I wish I had thought of bringing a warm jacket with me, but once we show our ID's and head inside, it warms up fairly quickly. The club that we are at to tonight isn't one that Kate or I have been inside before. The music is alternative with a live band playing, and the room is pretty crowded and filled up already.

Kate and I settle on a shot of tequila to get the night started and as we check the cocktail menu to see which drink takes our fancy, Jose arrives. We end up splitting our money in half to pay for a jug of gin and tonic, then we look around, searching for an empty place to sit. We all listen to the live music while sipping and refilling our drinks. The music is so loud that maintaining decent conversation is next to impossible without screaming.

"Is Christian coming?" Kate shouts in my ear when we're on our third drink. "Did he end up getting back to you?"

I pull my phone out of my purse, checking it quickly. Nope. Still no reply. "No, he hasn't texted me back to say whether he is or not, Kate. I guess we'll see."

Fifteen minutes later and after all the drinks I've consumed, I feel like I urgently need to pee.

"Be right back," I say to her and Jose. "Just need to go to the bathroom."

It's amazing how alcohol seems quick to affect me. Already, I feel slightly tipsy and as if I'm walking funny as I make my way into the bathroom. Once I go and I'm done, I head back out, searching around for Christian hopefully, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, my cheeks flushed. I'm just pushing through the crowd, spotting Kate and Jose a meter away talking at the table, when it happens. My vision is obscured when someone covers their hands over my eyes, making me go blind. I stiffen immediately, halting my walking.

Then I think I somehow realize who it is, and I start grinning foolishly. It's Christian! I just know it is!

"Christian?" I call hopefully through the music, spinning around towards him. He removes his hands from my eyes, I can finally see and, surely enough there he is, standing right near me. He's grinning. "Oh, my God! You actually made it!"

Losing myself and yet strangely uncaring whether Kate could see, I lift my hands, clasping his face in them gently. Then he leans down, kissing me while slipping a hand around my back. He runs his hand up and down my back, stroking me through the fabric of my dress, as I kiss him back, enraptured in nothing else but the sheer happiness of the moment at finally being near each other again. By the time we lean back, finally disengaging from our kiss, I feel lightheaded.

"You look drunk?" Christian says, an arm still wrapped around my back, holding me pressed into his side as his eyes scrutinize my face closely.

"Yeah, I kind of am," I admit abashedly. "So far, I've had one tequila shot and three glasses of gin and tonic."

"Let's get you back to the table." He slips his hand directly into the middle of my back, pushing me along with him through the crowd. "Where's Kate?"

"Over there," I mutter, jerking my chin into the direction of our table vaguely. I feel like I'm beaming idiotically for the entire world to see. I had so been hoping he would come tonight, despite him not texting me back to confirm whether he would or not.

Unable to help it, I lean up to press my lips into his cheek lingeringly, inhaling him in. He's got a weeks worth of stubble, and I find myself enjoying the way it feels so scratchy and rough against my lips. I know I shouldn't, especially for the sake of Kate not noticing anything is up, but I can't seem to help it. I'm not sure whether it's the alcohol I've drunk that is doing it to me, or just Christian and how good he smells alone, I just can't help it. I just want to touch him and be close to him.

But once we get close enough to the table, I manage to pull myself together, clasping my hands out in front of me instead, though the temptation to touch him is strong. He guides me into my chair near Kate, and I feel that familiar same old bitterness in my chest when Kate exclaims happily over him. She slips an arm around his neck, holding her hand pressed up against the nape of it, when he leans down to kiss her on the cheek.

I don't know when I will ever stop caring about how close they are. It seems so silly and pathetic now that we're actually together, but I just can't help not feeling insecure about it. They talk for about a good five minutes through the music, lost in their conversations, before Jose moves into another chair so that Christian can sit next to me. We all sit in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the band while Chris rests his arm around the back of my chair, to the point where I can concentrate on nothing else but his closeness, how every time I sit back, the sleeve of his shirt rubs against my bare shoulders.

"I might go to the bar and get something to drink," he says to me, leaning over, his mouth close to my ear. "You want anything?"

I show him my still full glass of gin and tonic and he nods once, checking to see if Kate or Jose wants anything. Then he stands, pushing through the crowd.

"Guess you didn't have to worry after all, Ana," Kate says as she shifts over into Christian's empty chair to talk to me. "Your brother ended up coming after all."

"Yeah, I'm so glad he did." Glad seems such an understatement though.

When Christian returns, he's holding three glasses. One, his glass of alcohol. The other two seem to be tall glasses of chilled water, condensation rolling down them.

"Brought you both back some water," Chris says to both Kate and me, placing our glasses down beside us. "You two look as though you need it."

"Oh, always the gentleman, aren't you?" I hear Kate laugh loudly on the opposite side of him through the music.

While Christian lifts his drink up to take in a sip, his other arm falls down below the table next to my lap. It's like an electric jolt of heat passes through me when he runs his hand up my kneecap, slowly towards my inner thigh, where it stays, his fingertips stroking me- not in a way to purposefully arouse me, I don't think. In just a pleasant reassuring way. It's so daring and risky yet I must be so tipsy that I can barely bring myself to care. I drop my hand underneath the table too, resting my hand flat on top of his, feeling so carefree without a worry in the world whatsoever.

When my eyes drift past him to where Kate is sitting to the side of him, I feel my stomach clench in unease, the blood leaving my face. Oh, shit. She's looking straight in my direction, her eyes flashing at me under the pulsing lights in the club. I know she sees it, without a doubt. She's noticed his hand is on my thighs beneath the table, that I'm resting mine on his. It's impossible to make out her expression. I'm not even entirely sure that she has made the sudden mental connection or not.

But then she turns away, lifting up her glass of water that Christian brought back to the table to drink it, while she raises her other hand, flipping the strands of her long blonde hair over to one side.

When she stands from her chair without warning, I feel my heart rate pick up. "Ana, can we talk for a second?" she says urgently, standing over me.

I know what's about to come. I can almost feel it.

"Um, sure. Where do you want to talk?"

"Outside maybe? Can we get some fresh air for a bit?"

"Sure." I stand slowly, Christian's hand immediately falling away from my thighs. As I step away from my chair, Kate grabs onto my arm, steering me along with her to the exit. It's fairly busy outside even, with people smoking and drinking. I hope to God that this won't turn into a fight. "What's up, Kate?"

"I don't know. Something really weird, though."

"Weird? Meaning what?"

Looking at her outside now with better lighting, I realize she's every bit as tipsy as I am. Her eyeliner and mascara are smeared from sweat. She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. I think she looks a little ill. "Um, well. What's going on with you and your brother? You two seem pretty... close? And by close, I mean _closer_ than usual? As in _weirdly_ close?"

Oh, God. My alcohol-addled brain searches frantically for a good enough excuse to come up with, but it dawns onto me that I just don't have any. I may as well tell her. She already saw us embracing inside. What point is there in keeping it from her?

"We're dating, Kate," I murmur, cringing a little, deciding to get it over with.

"Your _what_?" she hisses, staring at me incredulously. She stares at me with her glassy blue eyes, uncomprehending. "Your dating? Since when?"

"Since we went to Mom and Dad's for the weekend. We admitted our feelings to each other then and now... we're pretty much together."

"You and _your brother_?"

"Technically, he isn't my brother. He's adopted. It isn't like we're related genetically."

"So the fuck what? You still grew up together pretty much? You're still brother and sister to your parents? How the fuck do you think they'll feel about this?"

"I know it's a pretty shitty situation," I get out anxiously. "It isn't like I expected it to happen, but it... it just did."

She holds a hand up through my words, shaking her head repetitively in disgust.

Fear licks through my body at her reaction. I think it's even worse than I feared and imagined.

"Please, Kate, I know it sounds weird-"

"-Yeah, weird doesn't even begin to cover it, Ana!"

"I've just... I've always liked him more than a brother, even before I can remember," I explain desperately. "We don't see ourselves as brother and sister. We really don't-"

"-Yeah, but I do! I used to come over to your house all the fucking time with you two acting like brother and sister, and now... what the fuck, Ana? It's basically incest?"

"Incest only works if you're biologically related to someone, Kate." I cannot help the exasperation coating my voice. "Christian and I aren't, and you _know_ that."

"It's sick, Ana!" While I had a feeling she would feel weird about it, I hadn't expected her to be so judgmental. "I'm sorry, I just... I can't even talk about this with you!" She moves away from me, towards the door to the club again. "Talking about it makes me feel really, _really_ uncomfortable and weird, okay?"

Before I can even so much as attempt to get another word out, Kate steps back inside, leaving me alone, shivering, against the wall, my head spinning.

 **Hoping this one was okay and that it was not crappy? :/**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry I took long to update this. Hope you like this one. Sorry if its crappy!**

 **Chapter 16**

I don't know how long I stand outside for, resting against the brick wall at the back of the club after Kate left me, wrapped up in my own thoughts, but moving seems next to impossible. Maybe it's the alcohol or the depressed state I feel over how Kate's reaction went, but I cannot even feel bothered moving.

I just cannot believe how Kate reacted then, though a part of me had a feeling it was coming. For a second there, it had felt so good, so liberating, telling at least someone about Christian and I. I just hadn't expected her to react so badly to the news. Kate has been my best friend for over ten years now. I thought she would have been more understanding and supportive.

It doesn't take long for Christian to come looking for me.

Barely five minutes later, he pushes through the exit, walking outside, looking for me. It's freezing outside in just my dress; my skin covered in goose bumps and my breaths coming out in misty clouds. Christian looks around and once he finds me, I see his worried expression soften as he comes to stand near me. Despite what Kate said, I cannot help gravitating towards his warmth. I lean off the brick wall into him, his natural body heat warming me up through his shirt as he slips an arm around my shoulder.

If this is sick like Kate says, then that's too bad. Nothing about this feels sick to me at all. It feels natural, like how it should be, Chris and I. And this past week, I realize, I have never felt more happier until Christian and I started being together.

"You okay?" he asks me in concern, holding me tightly into his side. "I was wondering where you had gotten off to? I noticed Kate went back inside and you hadn't?" His gray eyes inspect my face seriously.

I am not sure how he will react to the news that I have told Kate about us. It makes my heart race. I don't know whether he will feel annoyed that I have told her, and my stomach muscles clench in apprehension. If I have to handle him being angry with me after what just happened with Kate, I don't think I would really be able to cope right now. Dealing with Kate was enough without having to handle any issues with Christian as well over it.

"Please don't be mad at me, but I did something that I'm not sure you'll be happy with," I begin anxiously, biting down on my lip as I search his face.

"What did you do?"

"I might have told Kate about us," I admit, cringing.

"What?" He sounds surprised. "You actually told Kate about us?"

"I did tell her." I brace myself, waiting for the blow, only it doesn't seem to come. He just rubs his hand back and forth over my bare arm to create some warmth by friction. "It didn't work out so well."

"Why not?"

"Well, she basically said it was sick and said it was like incest."

"Like incest?" Christian repeats, baffled. "How did she even begin to come to that conclusion? We're not even blood related?"

"I know and I told her that. She said talking about it was too weird so she went off back inside. I don't think she actually wants to talk to me anymore. I don't even think she'll want to be friends anymore."

"Who gives a flying fuck what she thinks anyway?" he mutters dismissively. It's evident he couldn't care less what _anyone_ thinks.

But the idea of Kate severing our friendship because of this, it makes my eyes well up with tears and my throat close over with grief. It would devastate me if I lost Kate as a friend and I would hope that, being best friends for as long as we have been, that something like this wouldn't be the death of it. To lose Kate as a friend simply because I am dating Christian- it seems so petty and unfair.

"She's clearly not a very good friend if she doesn't want to have anything to do with you after that then, is she?" he grumbles under his breath, and I know he's mad. Not mad _at me_ , but mad at how Kate has left me feeling. How she's upset me. "I wouldn't worry about it. She'll get over it eventually. She probably just needs time to get over the shock." He shrugs.

"I hope so."

"Just don't worry about it." I wish it was that easy.

Maybe it is just a male thing, where they can forget about something like that, brush it off, and not take it too seriously, but I can't help it. I can't help replaying what she just said to me, feeling the hurt sting anew.

"Let's just go back inside and have fun," he says, pushing me towards the door to head back inside the club, his arm still slung around my shoulders, keeping me warm. "Don't let her affect your night."

I dread heading back inside though. What if she starts something again?

Christian presses a chaste kiss into my cheek, the stubble on his skin scratching me, and I find the action gives me enough motivation alone to head back inside with him. It's amazing how a small gesture like a kiss can seem to give you strength to carry on and face someone, despite your entire body screaming with reluctance to. It is so nice to have him on my side, to know he is with me no matter what happens and that we are partners. We are in this together, no matter what Kate does.

I have to press my lips together, suppressing a thankful smile as we head back in, the loud club music assaulting us. At least I have Christian though, if not Kate right now. Somehow, and I don't know if its because we grew up together, but he seems to know all the right words to say and what to do to make me feel better. It seems so effortless to him.

I don't even pay attention to Kate once we get back to the table, Christian sitting in the chair near her between us. He rests his arm along the back of my chair again and miraculously, because he is here, I still manage to enjoy the rest of the night.

It's three thirty in the morning once we get back to the apartment.

Despite how terrible Kate was to me, I still feel concerned when she has to rush into the bathroom, on the verge of throwing up. She's drank too much alcohol but when I try to help her, she assures me that she's fine, pushing me out while she vomits. Her tone sounds short to me- like she is punishing me over what I confessed to her- but maybe that's just me being paranoid?

I help Chris get set up on the couch, getting him a thick blanket from in the closet, even though we both know that he won't be sleeping on the couch for very long. We say goodnight, and as I close the door to my bedroom, getting changed into the clothes I often wear to sleep in, I feel tired but excited. Excited for him to sneak in once Kate finally goes to bed.

I pull back my covers, sliding under them, sitting propped up against the pillows with the lamp on while I wait. I think I end up drifting off to sleep for a while, because I am rudely awoken by my bedroom door snapping gently closed and Christian leaning against it with his back about what feels like twenty minutes later. He watches me, though it takes me a few seconds of blinking heavily to feel properly alert again. He's still wearing the clothes he wore tonight at the club, fully dressed with the exception of his shoes, though I don't know why.

"Is Kate okay?" I whisper, throwing the sheets off me and spreading my legs on the mattress slightly, inviting him in. "Is she still in the bathroom?"

"I think she's all right." He pushes off the door, striding slowly towards the bed. "She stopped vomiting and went into her bedroom to sleep so I suppose that means she's okay. I was getting impatient for her to hurry up and go to sleep so that I could sneak into here though."

I feel the breath hitch in my throat when Chris puts both knees up on the mattress. He starts to crawl on top of me, the springs on the mattress creaking, and once he is looking right down at me, both hands near either side of my head and my legs in-between his, just like that, I find myself writhing with sheer need and exhilaration.

"Do you think she caught you sneaking in?" I don't even know why I find myself asking that. I don't really even truly care about whether she had or not right now. All I can care about is the way he is looking at me as he stares down into my eyes.

He shrugs a shoulder, tilting his head to the side. "I don't think she did. But does that even really matter?"

"No, it doesn't," I whisper. "It doesn't matter at all anymore."

He leans down slowly with his head and I think he is about to kiss me finally, only he doesn't. I feel stupid when I close my eyes shut, readying myself for the moment his lips touch mine, yet it doesn't happen. He doesn't end up kissing me. I reopen my eyes to look up at him in confusion, finding him trying to stifle down a smile. His eyes glisten with amusement. He is doing this on purpose; He is teasing me.

"Your not playing fair," I mutter in playful anger.

"Who said I'm playing to begin with?" He must know how much it effects me though; Him, lying right on top of me on the bed with just the right amount of his body weight on me. He has to know.

I wiggle and kick with my legs impatiently, bringing up one of my hands to run it down his arm, caressing him with my fingers, feeling the muscles in his forearm and bicep straining as he holds himself propped up above me.

"Do you want me to kiss you, Ana?" he asks in a strained voice.

"Obviously," I say, licking my lips to moisten them. "And... _more_ than that." I feel my cheeks flame with heat.

"More?" He repeats, playing dumb, arching his eyebrows. "Meaning what?"

"I want you to touch me." As the murmur leaves my lips, I feel a tingling warmth in my belly. Even just simply talking about what I want him to do to me, it makes me feel blisteringly hot with desire.

"You want me to touch you? Where?"

"Anywhere and everywhere."

I hear Christian's breathing start to change as he stares down at me. It becomes shallower, quicker. I know he is just as aroused by talking it through as I am. "And what if I don't want to touch you?"

I feel a sudden sting of rejection, as if he has slapped me. "You don't want to touch me?"

"No. What if I want to kiss you instead of touching you?"

Just like that, my mind is reassured. This is a game.

I bite down on my bottom lip, feeling my own breathing change and go rougher at the imagery. "Where do you want to kiss me, Christian? Where in particular?"

"Everywhere," he breathes, his voice hoarse with longing. "Anywhere and everywhere." He uses my words on me, turning the tables around. He licks his lips, leaning back slightly on the mattress.

Then he backtracks, leaving me to feel bereft of his weight on me as he treads back down my body, using his knees.

He manages to hook his fingers under the band of my pajama bottoms, as well as my underwear as he goes, and he yanks them both down together, startling me. I have to jerk up with my hips to assist him in removing them completely off, and he throws both my underwear and my trousers on the floor carelessly, his eyes roaming down my exposed legs and the most intimate part of me.

"I want to kiss you everywhere and anywhere, Ana," he says, the words breathed through parted lips.

I make an embarrassing and uncontrollable squeaking noise when he grasps both of my ankles with his hands, gripping tight. He pulls on my legs, seemingly effortlessly, and with each tug, I slide further and further down the end of the mattress to where he is, my shirt bunching up around my stomach. He stops when my legs dangle off the end of the mattress, my bare feet touching the carpet, and a laugh escapes me at the mortification of being exposed to him.

"But mostly I want to kiss you... down _here_."

I realize his reason for it when he gets down onto his knees and he grips my upper thighs strongly in both hands, keeping my legs spread widely open, his eyes luminescent with excitement, with hunger. He scrapes his lips against my inner thighs, the stubble on his chin presenting me the strangest yet delicious sensation imaginable. Then he gets to right there, and without even preparing me, his mouth is on me. It's lucky he is gripping my thighs tight the way he is, because out of impulsive reaction, I squirm and cry out in shock.

No one has ever done this to me before, cunnilingus. For a second, I start to worry that I don't taste right, that I may turn him off. But its a fleeting worry. Next instance, as he uses his tongue, swirling, licking, probing, there is no coherent thought left inside of me.

"Christian, god," I gasp. My hands fly down to his hair, and I fist it through my fingers, ripples of ecstasy like I have never felt before jolting through me, sending me shuddering. "Oh god..."

He stops his delightful torture for one cruel second, lifting his head up to meet my gaze. "Keep quiet," he reminds me in soft warning, his breathing disjointed. "We don't want to wake Kate up by being too loud. Remember?"

 _Oh fuck. Kate._ A breathless, horrified laugh escapes me at the thought.

"After all, we don't want her to notice all the incest that's going on, do we?" It's a joke, but despite how in poor taste it is, it still makes me smile and giggle.

He goes to put his mouth on me again, to use his tongue, but I stop him by clasping my hands around his head, pushing him away. "Not like that anymore, please," I beg desperately. I know I won't be able to keep quiet then if he does. "I want you."

"Want me? Where?"

"Inside of me."

Christian pulls himself up, grabbing the neck of his shirt, yanking it up and off his body. He gazes down at me, panting heavily, as his hands go in front of him, unbuttoning his trousers. His lips are glistening- with my arousal from down there, I think, my lubrication- and he licks his lips and me off of him, surprising me.

He pulls down his trousers, stepping out of them, completely naked from head to toe. He's already hard and ready for it. Just like that, I am writhing again like a snake on the bed, filled with dangerous need.

He doesn't leave me waiting too long, fortunately. He climbs onto the bed on his knees, working his way up my body, planting kisses on various random places that leaves me aching for him. A strangled moan tears out of me when he kisses over each nipple on my breasts through my shirt once, then as he finally cover me, he uses his hand, guiding himself in, the lubrication from what he did to me minutes ago making it easier for him to slide in painlessly.

"I love you," he inhales out shakily with a thick grunt and there is nothing more amazingly intimate as staring into each other's eyes with our bodies connected the way they are.

My fingers find their way to his hair as I lean up off the pillow, kissing him. He kisses back as he begins, pushing out, then in again, and my pelvis moves in sync, meeting him halfway to start a similar rhythm with our bodies. Our lips part for a second, then he bends down to kiss me again, stifling and swallowing down my groans as our pace increases, faster and harder. I know it won't be long and it doesn't take long at all.

I feel my legs tense beneath him, my body convulsing as an earth-shattering orgasm takes over me, and when he comes barely seconds after me, Christian mutters my name roughly, his semen spilling into me. We both remain still afterwards, gasping for air as his forehead rests against mine, him still sheathed inside of me. It's as if the both of us are too exhausted and comfortable to move.

We are still panting minutes later when Christian finally finds enough to strength to withdraw gently out of me. He strokes the tip of his nose against mine, his expression tender, then he moves off me to lay beside me, careful not to bare down on me too much with his body.

I can't help staring at the side of his face as he peers around my room. His eyes land on something and he laughs breathlessly, though I don't know why.

"What?" I whisper in confusion. "What's so funny right now?"

He lifts a hand, pointing at something. "You kept it even after all this time?"

I look across the room too, realizing he's laughing at the toy tiger I kept from when I was around nine years old. It's the only toy I have in the room and it embarrasses me that he noticed it. It's immature to have a toy at my age, I know, but its the memory of Mom and Dad giving it to me that means something.

"I know it's immature, keeping a stuffed toy at my age. But I always seem to feel nostalgic when I remember Mom and Dad buying it for me."

"You used to love that toy." He laughs again, then he rubs a hand over his face. "I remember you would carry it around with you all the time. You threatened to beat me up if I didn't give it back when I stole it from you once. Remember?"

"Yes, I remember." I smile myself at the memory. God, we have so many memories.

Christian sits up on his side, propping his head up with a hand. He stares down at me, the laughter and humor disappearing from his expression. "I always imagined that your room would look like this," he admits quietly. "Especially the bookshelf. I knew you would have a large bookshelf."

I turn to look at my bookshelf, an embarrassed laugh escaping me at all the clutter on it. All the novels and my notepads to write things on. I really should have cleaned my room up before he came in. "Am I that obvious?"

"You used to read books all the time. It doesn't surprise me." He sighs loudly, though I don't know why. He seems to be in a... funny mood. His gray eyes search my face very seriously. "Any regrets this time?" he finally asks, looking deep into my eyes.

"No," I assure him and then I smile. "No regrets whatsoever."

Chris inhales in deeply, his eyes narrowed. "You sure?" I can tell he doesn't believe me.

In the only way I know how to ease his mind, I sit up, moving my head closer. I reach out, stroking the side of his warm face with my fingers. His eyes close momentarily before he opens them, blinking at me. "I'm sure this time, Christian," I whisper truthfully. "Even what Kate said can't ruin this. I think I've decided that I don't care what anyone else thinks anymore."

And I know its precisely what he wants to hear when a beatific, wide smile spreads on Christian's lips.

 **Hope you enjoyed this one and that it wasn't crappy. Sorry for taking so long to update, real life has kept me away. So many things have happened with my family so I haven't been able to write much, but I will start to more now. Hope this wasn't boring. It will get more eventful next chappy. Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and alerts. I always feel embarrassed writing sexual stuff, hope it wasn't bad.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thank you so much. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Chapter 17**

The next morning, we are rudely awoken by my ringtone going off. Christian grumbles in annoyance when I get up hastily, searching for my phone in my room. My alarm clock tell me its already ten thirty in the morning. We've slept in, but it is a Sunday and we did have a late night out last night.

I still feel half asleep when I race around the bed, shivering, trying to find the location of my phone. I end up finding it on the floor, underneath Christian's shirt and jeans.

I clear my throat, putting on my professional voice, "Hello, this is Anastasia Steele speaking."

I answer while looking down at Christian from where he lays on the bed, swamped up in the crinkled sheets, a strange tenderness filling me at the sight of him. He shifts up onto his elbows to look over at me, blinking up at me sleepily, his hair all over the place. _Bed hair..._

"Yes, hello Miss Steele." It's a woman calling, though I don't recognize her voice. She sounds very formal. "I'm just calling in regards to the online application you submitted for the Administrative Assistant position at Washington Independent Publishing."

"Yes, that is correct. I did apply for the Administrative Assistant job vacancy advertised online."

It must be for one of the jobs I had applied for last week that was advertised online. Ever since graduating, I had been applying for job positions every day-hoping to get a job in either retail or in administration. So far, I haven't had any successful call backs for an interview, but hopefully its looking up.

"Well, your application has been successful. We were wondering if you could come in for an interview, preferably this week on the Monday."

"Oh, great." I know I sound too excited by the news. Chris's staring becomes too much, so I turn around, ignoring him. "So you want me to come in for an interview on this Monday coming?"

"Yes, that would be the most suitable time. At eleven thirty?"

"Okay, fantastic." The woman tells me the further details of what floor I will have to go to, and who will be interviewing me. It's a Mr J. Hyde, the boss. I cannot believe it. By the time I thank her and we exchange pleasantries, I'm still in a state of shock when I spin around slowly to face Christian. He sits up, stretching his arms, the blanket falling and exposing his broad shoulders and bare chest.

"You have an interview for a job you applied for?" he asks curiously. He was eavesdropping.

"Yes, I do. My first ever job interview since Clayton's," I admit, both nervously and happily. "I've been looking for jobs ever since I graduated. This is the first call back I've received so far." He must realize I'm shivering, because he opens up the sheet, inviting me back in. I tread barefooted back under the sheets, feeling toasty warm once he closes them over me. He leans against me with his bare skin, warming me up wonderfully. I shiver blissfully when he bends down. He starts pressing feather soft kisses up the nape of my neck, around my bare shoulder blades. "Now I'm nervous, though."

"Why?" He's murmuring against my skin, breathing hot breathes into me. "Why would you be nervous?"

"Because I haven't had an actual proper job interview before," I confess quietly. "I never had any jobs when I was growing up, aside from at Clayton's. You should already know that."

"You'll do great," he assures me, and he nuzzles his stubble scratchy chin into me. "Just be yourself."

"And what if they don't like who I am as myself? What if they decide I'm not good enough or that I'm not qualified enough?" That is mostly what worries me. It's the rejection of being turned down after the interview process- though I know its an inevitable part of it. "This is really a job I feel I'm interested in, something I can see myself doing easily; working in an office, doing clerical work. Sorting out appointments, filling, editing letters- that sort of thing."

"Then just show how passionate you are about this and how much you want it. If you don't get it, it won't be the end of the world, Ana. There will still be plenty of other jobs out there. At least you still have your backup plan at the hardware store if it falls through." He's right, and he centers me.

Then again, rationality has always been one of Christian's stronger points, even when we were growing up. He was always the rational one, the sensible one- though hot-headed when he felt wronged- while I was emotional.

"You'll do great in the job interview," he promises me, and I wish I had his self-confidence, his self-assurance. "Because you're smart." He kisses me once, open-mouthed, on my elbow. "And capable." Then, he kisses me on the crease of my armpit, making my breathing change laboriously. Another kiss. He's attacking me with kisses and its a thrillingly enjoyable assault. "And perfectly fine the way you're supposed to be. Don't doubt yourself."

I realize I'm being sort of selfish, talking about me and worrying about the interview rather than him and us. He has to leave today to go back to his apartment in Seattle. I roll over onto my back, peering up at him as he leans above me, resting the side of his head on his hand as he props himself up with an elbow on the pillow near my head. His eyes search my face as mine search his, affection radiating from every inch of him. How can he possibly know all the perfect things to say to reassure me? What would I do without him being there for me, always?

"I hate that you have to go sometime today," I whisper sadly, and I reach up, brushing my fingers slowly through the wayward strands of his hair. "I hate that you live so far away and that we are limited to seeing each other only on the weekends."

"I know. Will you think about me while I'm away?" he asks.

Oh, will I ever. "Yes."

"So you'll miss me?"

"Definitely."

"I'll miss you, too," he mutters, and my heart warms up at his words. "Then again, I think I'm always missing you."

* * *

The weekend goes and soon enough, I am already sitting in the lobby waiting for Mr J Hyde of Washington Independent Publishing. I am so nervous that I feel sick. My hands keep fidgeting and I feel impatient to be called in for the interview already. It would be nice to just get it quickly over and done with. I had no idea what to wear this morning, but Kate helped me choose what to wear.

I'm wearing a black tube knee-length skirt, a neat white blouse, black stilettos, and I remembered to bring a copy of my resume just in case. This seems like something a person wears for an interview. The skirt belongs to Kate but she insisted she didn't mind me borrowing it for the interview.

Fortunately for me, Kate has seemed to cool off a lot. We haven't directly spoken about Christian and I, and I think Kate is purposefully avoiding it, but I'm just grateful everything seems to be mainly normal between us again. I hear my phone go off in my bag- reminding me to switch it on silent while I do the interview- and I see Chris has sent me a text message.

I open it, reading it to myself, breathing in deeply while I fight the urge to smile at his words:

 _Good luck with the interview today, baby. Just be yourself; you're great, and your just as good as anyone else that is applying for the job. Don't forget it. I adore you, don't second guess yourself._

 _Looking forward to hearing the news later on how it went. Love you._

I write back a hasty reply:

 _You are only saying that because you are biased. You have known me since you were eleven after all!_

 _But thank you. I'll tell you how it goes later. Love you._

I switch my phone to silent, before tucking it back into my bag hastily. Are waiting for job interviews usually this draining?

"Ana Steele?" A woman suddenly calls my name and I stand, turning towards her nervously. The woman appears to be in her early thirties; Her hair and eyes a dark brown. She gives me a smile as her eyes access what I am wearing. Hopefully I look suitable for attending a job interview. "My name is Elizabeth Morgan, I'm from Human Resources." We shake hands. "This way, please."

I follow her into another room that opens up into a fairly large office. A man stands from a chair, extending his hand out to me. This must be my possible boss, Mr J. Hyde.

"Ana Steele, I'm Jack Hyde. I'll be the one conducting the interview with you today." He looks about Christian's age at twenty five, or maybe even just a bit older. I wasn't expecting a boss to be so young. He wears a tailored light grey business suit, the dress shirt black, no tie. His hair is a dark blond and slicked back, his eyes a deep blue. "Did you have to travel far to get here?" he asks in a friendly way as he shows me to my seat.

"No, not really. It was about a fifteen minute drive." The woman from Human Resources, she's seemed to have vanished. The fact that I'm alone with this man, the big boss, it makes me feel as though my heart is in my throat.

"Ah. So you live fairly locally then?"

"Yes, that's right."

He grabs a clipboard off his desk and a pen. "Is that a copy of your recent updated resume that you have for me?"

"Yes, sir."

I pass it to him, and he spends a few minutes in silence, reading through it. My list of job history is lacking- and it's mainly because I just got out of school and have only held down the one job. I have no idea whether that will effect me getting the job, but I have a feeling it will. He'll probably want someone with more experience, but Christian's text message comes back to me, reassuring me. I am just as good as anyone else.

"So, you haven't had many jobs recently over the years?" is the question he starts on, placing a nail in my coffin.

"Yes, that's right. I just graduated recently from Washington University. I've been mainly focusing on that, while doing part-time work at Clayton's Hardware store, a sort of retail position. I feel as though I'm ready for a new job in a more challenging role, though."

"And so what makes you want to be an Administrative Assistant for us at WIP? What interests you about the position?"

His questions throw me in a loop at first, until I try to incorporate Christian's advice into answering the questions. Honesty. I try to be as honest as possible, while stressing how passionate I am about getting the job. Just because I have no prior employment history aside from part-timing at Clayton's, it doesn't mean I'm not passionate. The questions become less frightening after a few of them. Mr Hyde becomes more laid-back, more human.

"So what is, in your eyes, one of the most important things to you?"

"I would say my family," I admit nervously. "I'm very... family orientated, like the next person, I suppose. Family means a lot to me."

My Hyde glances down at my resume, then he rests it onto the clipboard. He starts writing something on it, though obviously I can't tell what he's writing. Hopefully it is positive things, though. "And do you have a big family?"

"Not exactly. I'm just very close with my father and my mother."

"What about siblings?"

I hesitate, before saying, "I have one sibling, Christian, a brother. He was adopted into the family when I was around eight years old. My family is very important to me."

After talking about Christian and my family, I start to feel more relaxed and at ease.

"And where do you see yourself in five years?" Mr Hyde asks, scrawling something down on my resume again.

"Hopefully in a similar job such as this, which I feel would be something I would love."

"Very good. I think that's all the questions I have." He finishes writing, finally bringing his eyes up to me again. There is something about the way he looks at me that unnerves me, though I'm not sure why. He just gives off a strange certain vibe that is impossible to explain. "Would you have any questions?"

"If you were to hire the person for the role, when would you like them to start?"

"As soon as possible. When could you start?"

"I'm available whenever," I explain.

Mr Hyde grins at me. "Well, I think that's everything." He stands and I stand as well.

"When should I expect to hear anything?" I ask.

"By the end of this week, you can expect a call. If you don't receive one by then, then it unfortunately means that you haven't met our expectations and we feel that you are unsuitable."

"Great," I murmur. "Thank you so much." I reach out, shaking his hand. As he shows me out, I feel relieved. The interview process was definitely nerve-wracking and draining, but I am not sure if its due to the man that interviewed me and how I felt in his presence or not.

Once I exit the building, I grab my phone out of my bag, switching it back on. No new messages. I decide not to call Christian yet because, no doubt, he's probably busy himself with working.

Once I get home to the apartment, I get changed out of the interview clothes, hanging them back up. I find Kate sitting in her room on her bed, typing on her laptop. She's wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, her blonde hair tied up. Things have felt rather awkward between us and not the same after what happened. I hate it.

"How did the interview go?" she asks with interest.

"I felt it went pretty good. He was asking me personal questions about my family life and things though?"

"That's normal." Kate's been on three interviews so far, though hers have been unsuccessful. "They're just trying to establish where you place importance on things in life, I guess. Was the interviewer nice?"

"He was the boss, Jack Hyde. He was sort of intimidating."

"Bosses always are though, right?"

A weird silence falls between us. "Thanks for letting me borrow your skirt," I say to break it.

"No problem. It looked good on you."

I smile at her ruefully while placing it back into her wardrobe neatly. I wish things weren't so weird.

"Have you told Christian about how the interview went?" Kate asks, though she seems to hesitate. She hasn't mentioned Chris at all until now.

"I did this morning. He wished me good luck."

"Cool. I bet he's happy for you?"

"Yeah, he seems to be." Another horrible silence. "Kate, are we okay?" I ask her nervously.

She gives me an odd look. "Um, yeah, Ana. Of course we are. Why wouldn't we be?"

"I just thought after, you know... what happened? With what I said-"

"-Everything's fine," she butts over me. "We're fine, Ana. I just... worry about what your folks would say. I know that they will probably freak out?"

God, I don't even want to think about it. "I know they would. Carla and Ray will definitely flip out once they know about us."

She eyes me sympathetically. "Are you gonna tell them? Have you two made plans to? If its serious, I mean?"

"No, we haven't made any plans to. Honestly, I was sort of hoping we could keep it clandestine."

"Yeah, but." She pauses, staring at me. "Usually things can't stay a secret for too long, can they? Sooner or later Carla or Ray will find out, and it'll hurt more if you two don't be honest and tell them yourselves?" I wasn't expecting her to want to talk to me about this. "I just worry what will happen, that's all. And, no offense, but its still a little too weird for me to think about- you and Christian, like that. It's so hard to refrain from being judgmental or to feel a little... weird."

"Yeah, and I get that, Kate. I know it must be hard to wrap your head around, particularly when you used to come around the house a lot when we were younger."

"So you guys have sex?"

I don't know why she finds it necessary to ask and I flush. "Yes, we've been having sex."

"Okay." I can tell she's trying to keep her face straight. "Um, congratulations with the interview anyway. I'm sure it went great."

"Thanks," I force a smile, forcing my voice to sound brighter. When I leave her bedroom, my entire body sags physically. I wasn't anticipating on this being so excruciating, talking to Kate.

* * *

I receive a call from WIP two days later. Jack Hyde calls me personally himself, telling me that he really liked me when I came in for the interview and that, congratulations, I get a three month probation trial period at his publishing house as an Admin Assistant. I'm so ecstatic that I had to call my mother right away, telling her of the news. She was so happy for me. And when I had called Chris, he was just as happy as she was.

Today's my first day at WIP.

To prepare in advance, last night, I had made my lunch and had ironed my clothes for the day ahead. The day seems to go smoothly; I get to the building on time fifteen minutes early. Elizabeth, from HR, shows me around the building, explaining to me firstly where the fire evacuation meeting point is and all exits. Then my training starts. Another colleague assigned to train me and show me how to do certain tasks helps me, guiding me along to meet the organisations protocol. Time seems to fly quickly by all the mental distractions and friendly faces that greet me.

When the woman training me has to leave early, my boss Mr Hyde takes her place, explaining to me the filing process they have and how his organisation handles client confidentiality. Just as how it was when I met him for the interview, he leaves a peculiar effect onto me.

He'll stand too close to me while showing me how the fax machine works, as well as the printers. He'll place his hand on me, though I feel like its not within my place to tell him it makes me feel uncomfortable. He probably doesn't mean anything by it anyway.

While showing me how to answer emails following the code of conduct, he starts asking me personal questions that are completely irrelevant to what he is training me in. I suppose he's just trying to be friendly and make conversation.

"So, what do you do with yourself on weekends, Ana?" he asks me while taking over, using the computer mouse. "Are you like most of the young women of your generation? Are you a party girl?"

"Not exactly. Sometimes I do head out for a few drinks to unwind with my friend, but that isn't very often."

"Well, as a sort of office tradition, most of us here like to unwind on Friday's to salute the start to the weekend," Mr Hyde explains, his blue eyes shining with mirth. "Normally, we head out for a few drinks. That's something you would probably enjoy doing with us, wouldn't you, Ana?"

"Probably," I murmur nervously, with not wanting to disappoint him. He's really the reason I got this job in the first place. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be having this opportunity. It's important I don't say the wrong thing.

"Who do you live with? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"I do have a boyfriend actually, but I don't live with him. His name is Christian." I'm trying to be honest but, at the same time, I want to keep my privacy and not give too much away.

"Christian? So your boyfriend has the same name as your brother?"

Oh, shit. I had forgotten about the interview, revealing what my adopted brother's name was.

"Um, yes. We laugh about it all the time at home, at how ironic it is," I lie hastily, "But that's just how it turned out. I have a brother and a boyfriend called Christian. They both have the same first name."

"Well, there's no denying that your boyfriend is a very lucky man."

To my relief, he doesn't continue with the conversation. He ends it there. I just have to be more careful next time so that no one works out that my boyfriend Christian, is also the brother that was adopted into my family when I was eight years old. While it isn't wrong in my eyes now, Chris and I being together as we have never viewed ourselves as siblings, I know that other people wouldn't be as accepting, like our parents if they come to know of it, or my new colleagues.

It's just the social stigma involved along with it, which makes it difficult. But if anyone finds out- especially the man that employed me- I have a feeling things will turn out badly for me.

 **Thank you so much for your sweet words. Hope you enjoyed this one? As usual, would love to know what you think on how the story is going. They make my day.**


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 18**_

I'd been dithering around undecided on whether to actually head out on Friday night with my boss and my other work mates for a few drinks to celebrate the weekend. After getting through four full successful days at WIP, I decide I actually feel up to it. It would be nice to get out and hang with my new work colleagues and my boss in a less intimidating, casual atmosphere.

On the Wednesday night after dinner, I sit in bed, wondering whether to call Christian to mention it to him or not. I'd really like him to come and be there. Well, actually, I'd just like him to come and be near me in general, not so much for moral support. It's been a busy, tough week, where we haven't been texting each other or calling much. I suppose we've both been tied down doing other things this week.

The absence and the whole long-distance thing between us, it hasn't gotten any easier. I still always seem to miss him and have him constantly on the brain, even while at work while I'm busy doing other things. I wonder if he'd be happy to come out with me on the Friday night so I can introduce him to my boss and my new work colleagues. I have a feeling he'd want to be there anyway.

Lying back against my pillow, I find his number, then press dial. I get the dial tone for a few seconds, then he finally answers.

"Christian Grey speaking." I almost laugh out loud at how professional and almost clinically cold he sounds on the other line; He obviously hadn't checked caller I.D to see who was calling him first.

"Yes, good evening, Mr Grey," I tease in a deliberately snotty voice, "This is Anastasia Steele speaking from her Vancouver bedroom." I hear him sigh in relief and chuckle softly on the other end of the line.

"Ana. Sorry." Just like that, he sounds like the regular Christian I know and love again. The one that's warm and carefree and relaxed. "I'm expecting a call and hadn't checked the number beforehand. How are you? How has your first week been at work so far?"

"I'm very good. And works been surprisingly good as well. I think I'm getting used to it. How has your week been?" I hear the sound of a computer keyboard clicking in the background. Is he still working?

"Busy," he mutters with another sigh. "Incredibly busy. I'm still here right now as we speak. I have a few things to finish. The work demand lately has been huge."

"Oh. I can call back later if you want?"

"No, please, it's fine. Keep talking to me, baby. I'll fall asleep in my chair otherwise." His voice changes, going lower, a bit more drained and tired-sounding. I check the time on the alarm clock near my bed. It's 10.30 at night and he sounds exhausted already?

"So you're still at work right now?"

"Yes, unfortunately. It's been a hectic week."

"Hmm, sounds like it too," I whisper sympathetically. "Even your voice sounds tired. They making you work overtime?"

"Something like that. I miss you."

I feel my heart seize and splutter with joy at his gentle, wistful words as I smile to myself. "I miss you too." My intentions for calling return to me. "Oh, my boss invited me out on Friday for drinks."

"Your boss?" He sounds more alert suddenly on the other line. " _Just_ your boss or... are there other people invited as well?"

"My boss as well as my work colleagues," I explain. "I wasn't sure I wanted to actually go, but now I'm thinking it might be fun." He's silent on the other line while I bite down on my lip. "Want to come with me?" I ask hopefully.

"What time on Friday?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm assuming in the afternoon or early evening. I'd really feel better if you could come with me?"

"I'll see what I can do. You'll have to text me the details once you know more, but I can't see it being a problem. I should be able to make it."

"Great. Thank you." My heart feels heavy with such a brutal, sudden ache. This is so depressing. I want him here, I realize. I want him here, talking in bed with me, not miles away in Seattle, speaking to me on the phone. I make a sad humming noise. "It's stupid but I've only just realized how much I hate this," I confess wearily.

"Hate what?"

" _This_. Us having to speak on the phone like this. I hate that you're so far away, a four hour drive away."

"Well, there's always a way that can be easily solved," Chris says readily.

"And what ways that?"

"Well, surprising as it may be to you, I _do_ happen to have a bed that's big enough for two people." He's teasing me, I can tell by the wry tone in his voice. I can almost see him smiling on the other line as he sits there, in his office or wherever at work while speaking to me. It only makes me miss him even more.

"You do?" I tease back with a laugh. "Oh, the shock and horror."

"And I'm fairly certain I have a rather large and decent paycheck coming up. I could very easily up-size into a bigger apartment."

I fall silent as his words settle in, his true meaning to them. I know he's deliberately trying to sound playful and as if it's a huge joke, but I think I know Christian well enough to notice when he's also being serious about something despite how hard he's trying to sound casual about it. _Is he suggesting I ought to live in Seattle with him? That we should actually move in together?_

Weirdly enough, I hadn't even considered that possibility or entertained the thought of us doing that.

"Are you, um, suggesting that I ought to move in with you, Christian?"

My tone must hint at how taken aback I am by his suggestion. I hear him exhale out of his mouth loudly. "It's only a mere suggestion, Ana. Just something to consider."

"But I just got this job?" I think of what Mom and Dad would say if I announced I was moving in with Christian, and their reactions. They'd immediately suspect something was up then. "And think about what the parents would say. You really think they'd approve? Wouldn't me moving in with you immediately imply something was up?" I say it before I truly think about it. I know he doesn't like me talking about them, and I regret it, the instance it comes out of my mouth carelessly.

I wince, waiting for his reaction anxiously.

"I should go," he simply says after a moment, and I catch that lilt to his voice; That familiar one that he always uses when he's trying to suppress an emotion. Anger, maybe? Annoyance? "I really need to finish this work up, but if everything goes to plan, I'll be seeing you on Friday."

"Um, okay. I love you."

"I love you too." He's the first one to hang up a second later. I sigh loudly as I drop my phone on the dresser near my bed, shuffling down more comfortably onto my mattress.

I shouldn't have brought it up like that, but I hadn't been thinking. I just hope he isn't too mad at me when Friday _does_ hopefully come and he turns up for drinks with my new boss and work mates.

* * *

"What do you think?" I ask Kate nervously that Friday afternoon.

I'd rushed home to quickly get changed after confirming the details with Christian by text. As far as I know, he said he'll be coming tonight. I just really hope he lives by his promise, because I really do need to see him. It's been a week already; far too long.

I've changed into a navy blouse with a knee-length skirt, stockings, and black stilettos, hoping to look formal yet dressy for a good night out. Kate eyes my outfit as she sits on the couch, tucking into her dinner of stirfry noodles.

"You look good. Casual but dressy, too."

"So you agree that this is something appropriate to wear out with your new boss and work colleagues?"

"Definitely, Ana. Yeah." Kate and I have been doing better after everything I've revealed to her, at least. I still can sense some awkward tension there between us, but I've noticed that so long as I don't mention or give too many details about my relationship with Christian, she's fine. "So Christian's going too?" she asks curiously.

"Yeah, he is. He said he'll meet me there so hopefully..."

After putting on some lipstick, I get ready to head out. The bar where we are supposed to be having drinks as a so-called office tradition isn't that far away. When I arrive there, I wait outside on the street for about five minutes, with not wanting to be too early while also praying Christian shows up. Only every cab I look at that pulls up at the sidewalk leaves me filled with disappointment when a stranger that obviously isn't Chris hops out.

I glance through the window of the bar, immediately already spotting my boss Jack standing around talking to a few other work colleagues that I only know on a last name basis.

With a sigh, I decide to head in instead of waiting around, pushing open the door. The bar is fairly loud, with music from a jukebox playing from in the furthest corner of the room. Eighties music is playing. The bar isn't too crowded, I notice. It's actually rather small and rustic looking, with bright red stools at the bar and matching bright red benches.

My boss must notice me the instance I get in, because he nods at me with a smile before turning to the bar, quickly ordering a drink for me. As I reach him and the other group of people while smiling nervously, he finally speaks.

"Ana, so good that you could make it," he says, his blue eyes twinkling at me.

"Well, thank you so much for inviting me."

"Of course. I already ordered you a drink. Is the house wine okay?"

"Of course, the house wine is great."

I spend my time standing around with the others, smiling and laughing along with whatever things they say, all the while trying to seem genuinely interested when really, I'm getting impatient for Christian to arrive. I keep looking around in the bar or outside the window, hoping to catch glimpse of him coming in. Then one of the girls that I remember is named Holly starts chatting to me, trying to get to know me.

"So, Jack said you have a boyfriend?" she asks with interest as we both sip at our wines.

"Um, yeah, I do." I smile at her while glancing towards the door again hopefully. Nope, still no sign of him as yet. "He should actually be arriving very shortly hopefully."

"Oh. You invited him?" There's a tone in Holly's voice that I don't understand. What? Aren't significant others allowed or something? "How long have you two been dating?"

"Um, a few months," I answer, then I sip another mouthful of the house wine Jack ordered for me.

I don't know why she's so interested in my relationship all of a sudden, but I notice she stares at me with her brown eyes as I let the wine linger in my mouth before swallowing finally.

The red house wine isn't too bad, but it has nothing on the champagne I remember Chris ordering for me when we went out to dinner that time. The comparison that comes out of nowhere makes me smile for real.

"So, you enjoying working for me, Ana?" Jack suddenly asks, engaging in conversation with me. I look past Holly at him.

"I really am. It's been great so far and I really appreciate the opportunity."

"Oh, well, we're happy to have you," Jack says, and I catch Holly drifting away out of the corner of my eye to speak to someone else now that Jack has my attention. He moves closer so that he's standing next to me, so that we can talk and hear each other better over the jukebox music, I suppose. "I do hope you aren't finding the job too hard?"

"No, I'm not. I think I'm actually starting to get the hang of it. And everyone has been so supportive and friendly so far." I tighten my fingers over the stem of my wine glass as I peer out towards the door of the bar again, and through the window. _Oh, come on, Christian. Where are you? When are you going to finally get here?_

I turn to see Jack observing me, eyeing me carefully. I think he's been staring at me practically the whole time I'd been looking out the window for any sign of Christian, and my heart clenches in uneasiness. I've been feeling some definite odd vibes about the man all week. He can seem friendly and somewhat nice, yet there's this unnerving feeling I get, something that won't go away.

I meet Jack's bright blue eyes as he pointedly glances the way I was looking. "Are you, ah, waiting for someone or something?"

I hadn't mentioned to anyone tonight that I was planning on inviting Christian as well, aside from Holly seconds ago, of course. "Oh, I hope you don't mind, but I actually invited my boyfriend along tonight. Is that okay?"

"Oh, so you invited your boyfriend?" Jack rubs around his bottom lip with his fingers, an edge there in his voice. "Well, usually, this is just a fun, carefree office tradition we all do together as a group. We don't really feel comfortable with any outsiders." _So he's saying I can't invite Chris if I do come along next time? That I'm breaking some tradition rule?_ Suddenly, he looks distracted, listening to something, his head slightly tilted to the side. "Oh, you're kidding? Here's my song!"

Without warning me in advance, Jack reaches over, removing my wine glass from my fingers tight grip on it. He sets it on the bar next to his bottle of beer, then holds both hands up to me innocently in the air, his eyes alight with humor.

"Sorry, Ana, but I've always got to do this whenever my song plays. Everyone else knows this."

Before I can do or say anything, he puts a hand on my waist while grabbing onto the hand opposite it, making us move. I feel my cheeks burn in embarrassment as he tries to get me to dance with him to the song on the jukebox.

"Oh, you're unlucky, Ana," Holly calls, laughing with another girl beside her. "Jack always does that to this song!"

Loosened up a little from the sips of wine I'd had and also seeing this for what it most likely is, just a silly dance intended as fun to a song my boss likes, I go along with him, letting him take lead. Jack spins me in a circle as the chorus starts to play, and as I turn back in, I meet his gaze, his eyes still bright and fixed on nothing else but my face, his lips slightly curled in a smile, two dimples at the sides of his mouth showing.

"Whenever I hear this song, I've just got this compulsion to move," Jack explains to me over the music, and then he releases my waist and hand, only to move in behind me.

I don't feel as comfortable as I did when it comes to this type of dancing with him. He stands real close behind me, clasping onto my waist with both hands, his entire chest pressed up against my back.

"Work them hips," he mutters in my ear and, rather aggressively, he tries to push my hips back and forth, to move them to the beat.

"Actually, I don't think I'll dance anymore, Jack-" I begin to say, unnerved, while my eyes lift ahead of us, straight to the door.

That's when I see him, standing there, at once.

 _Christian! He's here, finally! He's arrived!_

I can't help immediately feeling relieved, safe, and comfortable the instance he starts pushing through the crowd towards us, his eyes on nothing else but me and Jack as I finally manage to separate myself from him.

"Oh, come on, Ana," I hear Jack mutter in disappointment, "What are you doing? The song hasn't ended yet?"

The closer Chris reaches us, the more I take notice of his body language and his expression. His strides are fast and urgent, almost like an eagle preparing itself to swoop itself down onto its prey. His eyes are bright with heated emotion and intense as they stare between me and Jack, who's obviously given up attempting to dance to the music behind me. I realize the look is familiar; A look I've probably only seen a few times since we were kids.

The look is similar to the one Christian had when he'd found out in school that a few of the boy bullies were teasing me and saying nasty things; something that, quickly resulted afterwards in Christian getting suspended for smacking one of the boys in the nose, his somewhat violent demonstration of protecting me and looking out for me.

But we're not in the school yard anymore. And I realize Christian's anger is directed at my boss, probably because he was dancing close to me barely seconds ago before I moved away.

My heart is beating erratically in my chest as I try to take charge of the situation before Chris does something that will make everything worse and embarrassing; While it's sweet, his reaction, if he does anything, I'll likely be fired right on the spot and I really do need and like this job.

I move forward to meet him halfway through the crowd, my eyes on nothing else but his face. His gaze will shift, from me, to where my boss is standing behind me at the bar and once I finally come to stand in front of him, all the tension seems to evaporate at once as Christian slides an arm around my back, holding me in close.

"Christian, you made it!" I mutter in relief with a genuine, full-blown smile. "I've missed you so much!"

His gray eyes move towards where my boss probably still is and then he leans down slowly towards me, pressing his lips to mine. I know what he's doing the instance he does it; He had glanced over at where Jack was to make sure he had his attention, so he could see clearly Christian moving in to kiss me; a non-verbal but loud demonstration that t _his is my boyfriend, Chris is here for me, and I'm his._

Despite having a fair idea of his intentions, I can't resist relaxing as his lips move against mine, and I follow their rhythm, kissing him back deeply. It's been a long week without him, and life's too short. I've missed him too much to be mad at his behavior right now or what he's intentionally trying to do, the fact he's trying to stake a claim and show Jack I'm his in an immature way.

He isn't punching my boss or getting into his face to threaten him, and that's enough for me right now. Chris isn't reenacting our earlier school days when he'd violently shoved a boy away for bullying me, playing big protective brother.

Losing myself over my happiness at the fact that he's finally hear, I lean up in my heels, wrapping an arm around his neck, prolonging our kiss while my body presses up against the length of his, his arm trailing down my back and up again, stroking me. Once we pull away, I see a question in his eyes, like he wants to demand answers on the whole awkward dancing incident with my boss, but that can really wait.

He's here now and that's all that matters. He's finally here, in person with me. Texting and phone calls have really not been enough for me.

"Come on," I say breathlessly, grabbing onto his hand. "I'll introduce you to my new boss and work colleagues then you can get yourself a drink." I pull his arm along, and he lets me lead towards where Jack and all the others are standing.

The introductions go well; Christian's polite and friendly to Holly and all the others, shaking their hands. Then it's Jack's turn and it's then that my nerves really settle in as they evaluate each other with their eyes.

"Um, Mr Hyde, this is my boyfriend Christian," I explain, and they both extend out their arms. They shake hands, yet I notice there's a longer amount of hand squeezing between the two of them than what is probably necessary. It almost feels competitive. "Christian, this is my boss Jack."

"Christian Grey," Christian says, and I notice a weird flash of recognition in Jack's eyes. _What's that all about?_

I'm just relieved I didn't accidentally slip-up and call Christian by the surname 'Steele'.

"Christian Grey?" Jack repeats, as if trying to remember something. "Grey. Why is that name familiar to me for some reason?"

"Wednesday, you attended a meeting at the company where I'm Chief Executive Officer at?" Christian says the businesses name at the company where he works at as I glance between them, trying to understand. _Wait, CEO? I didn't know Christian worked in such a high position in his job? He's never told me that before._

"Oh, yes, that's right!" Jack laughs while scratching his forehead, the laugh sounding nervous. Insincere, even. "Jesus, what a small world it is. I had no idea you were Ana, the latest girl we'd hired's partner?"

I cannot believe I hadn't even known that much about Christian's work. I know where he works, yes, but not how high his position was in the company. I don't even think Mom and Dad truly know either. He's been keeping this from all of us. Why? I know Mom and Dad would be so proud to hear of it. I definitely am.

I'm struck by how different Christian becomes as he and Jack keep talking about a few things that went on at this meeting that I don't understand; Christian's entire countenance has changed. While he remains holding onto my hand tightly, there's an air of confidence there, of authority that clearly intimidates my boss. It's actually quite sexy.

After their conversation ends, Christian turns to me, leaning down to speak to me through the music, "I'm going to get a drink. You want or need anything?"

"No, I'm good," I gesture to my glass of wine that's still sitting on the bar top with my chin, still overwhelmed and filled with amazement over what had just happened seconds ago. "Jack brought me a house wine, actually."

He still holds onto my hand as he orders at the bar, probably making sure I don't leave his side. I really want to ask him more about his job and what just happened. I cannot believe I had no idea.

Once Christian gets his drink, he carries it with him as we head over to one of the empty booths. We sit and I notice Jack watches us from up at the bar. He still appears slightly in shock by Christian's presence.

"What the hell just happened?" I ask Chris in confusion after he takes a small sip of his drink. "How long have you been CEO for?"

He swallows, placing his glass down on the table. "I got promoted to the position about four months ago," he explains. "Coincidentally enough, your boss is the same man I met for a meeting just this Wednesday."

"Yes, and I understood all that, but... how come you didn't tell anyone that you'd been promoted?" He definitely hasn't told Mom and Dad; I would have remembered him telling them if he had.

"I didn't want to make such a big deal out of it."

"Well, it _is_ worth making a big deal out of, Christian. Mom and Dad would be so proud. I can't believe you never told them?" It's so strange. "Or me, even? I had no idea! Why would you purposefully keep it a secret?"

"I wasn't purposefully keeping it a secret, Anastasia. It just... it never came into my mind at the time to tell them. Or you." I watch his face as he shifts slightly in the booth, his gaze going to my boss again for a moment. I have no idea what he's thinking at all. "So what was all of that about?" he finally asks with a slight edge as he meets my gaze, arching his brows.

"What was what about?"

"You _know_ what." He gives me a look, his eyes blaring with irritation. Immediately, just by his look alone, I realize what he's hinting at. Oh, he means what he walked into when he came into the bar. "First thing I see when I arrive in here, is your boss putting his sleazy hands all over you?"

I try to prolong answering by reaching over and stealing his drink. I swallow down a few mouthfuls, realizing he's ordered a gin and tonic, but an extremely strong one. The gin is potent, burning my throat. _How do I answer this in the right way to keep him in a good mood?_

"That was nothing," I finally say with a shrug. "Jack insisted I dance to this song that he really likes. Apparently he does it with most of the women in here whenever it comes on. I got unlucky."

His lips press into a tight thin line as he stares at me. I can tell he's not impressed yet, at the same time, I can't help feeling amused by his reaction. I shouldn't, but there's something about knowing he's jealous or feeling possessive over me that makes me feel relieved. And also, I for some reason find it to be inexplicably sexy of him.

"I don't like it," he says flatly while running his fingers through his hair.

I slip up, laughing despite the severity of how he's taking the conversation.

"You're jealous," I mutter knowingly, bumping my shoulder against his.

He doesn't laugh or smile along with me; He keeps impressively stern and straight-faced.

"You should have seen the look on your face," I tease. "It definitely took me back to when we were younger and how you got suspended at school for an entire week all because you were angry at some boy for cupping himself in his trousers and for whistling at me. I thought you were about to punch Jack."

"I _felt_ like punching him," he mutters offhandedly, still not amused. He grabs onto his glass, holding it tightly between his fingers while turning his head back to where Jack is. "I _still_ feel like punching him."

I know he means it and it isn't something to be taken lightly, yet I still can't help smiling widely, practically beaming. Chris has never been empty handed with his threats, and he usually always follows through in all the times I've known him when we were younger. I know through being a spectator that Christian is an extremely good fighter too. He can handle himself incredibly well.

"Well, thank you for restraining yourself," I murmur appreciatively, lifting my hand up onto the table. I grab hold of his forearm, stroking it, squeezing it tenderly, and he turns back to look at me, holding my gaze, his gray eyes still intense and heated. "I really do need this job. I can't risk losing it all because you're following through on your protective whims, sexy as it is, your reaction right now."

"Sexy?" Finally I seem to break through to him. His face softens, the irritation in his eyes diminishing. "You find it sexy?"

"You look sexy when you're jealous," I confess, and I feel my cheeks go warm at having to admit it. "Maybe I should get you jealous intentionally more often?"

My mouth goes dry as that distinctive look overcomes him while he holds my gaze; That one I've come to learn well ever since we finally started this together. That slack-jawed, particular heated and aroused look he gets.

"How about we leave and get out of here?" he asks, and he brings his glass up to his mouth, draining the rest of his gin and tonic down in four impressively quick gulps.

"And go where?"

He licks his lips as he sets the now empty glass back down onto the table. "Back to your apartment?" There's a hidden meaning, to both his tone, and the look he gives me. And I think I catch onto that meaning quite quickly.

"Okay then. Let's go but we need to say goodbye first and tell everyone we're leaving."

He nods once, taking my hand. Then he leads me back towards where Jack and everyone else is at the bar, getting their attention.

"Thanks for the pleasant evening, but Ana and I unfortunately have other places we need to be as well," he says, and then he shakes hands with all of my co-workers pleasantly while I smile and say my goodbyes before leaving Jack again for last.

"Mr Grey, pleasure," Jack mutters, and they do that prolonged shaking-hands thing again, as if they're really seeing who can squeeze whose hand the tightest without flinching.

"See you all on Monday," I say with a smile at everyone, then we move towards the exit, Christian rushing forward to hold the bar door open for me, ever the gentleman.

Out on the street, the fresh air becomes immediately soothing and invigorating on my skin. I couldn't help but feel all this tension and competitively dangerous testosterone shared between Chris and my boss. It was draining.

"Still think that was sexy, Little Ana?" Christian asks me wryly as we stand and wait for a cab. My breath hitches in my throat in outrage at his remark, a bitter burning sensation of anger in my gut as I peer up at him with wide eyes.

He knows fair well that I loathe him calling me Little Ana, especially now. He raises his eyebrows at me challengingly, and I know he's trying to stifle a smile by the way the corners of his mouth twitches. I realize he's doing it on purpose to rile me up- that's his intention.

"You did _not_ just dare call me that," I mutter through gritted teeth, hoping to sound convincingly threatening. "You know you can't call me that anymore."

"Oh? Why can't I?"

"Because you _know_ I've always hated you calling me that! And remember how in the bar you said how you felt like punching my boss?"

"Yes, but what about it?"

"Well, careful, because _now I_ feel like I want to punch _you_!" I know I could never really punch him or badly inflict any pain on Christian, not really. But this is like being stupid kids again, this is what we do. How we tease each other, how we deliberately get each other's bristles up. It's always been like this, and it won't change evidently.

Just as I expected, he doesn't flinch or show any wariness at all. He simply stares down at me, eyebrows still raised threateningly, his enjoyment in our game clear, "Give me your worst then!"

I snatch my hand out of his while trying my hardest not to laugh, then jab him playfully in the left side of his ribs with my elbow.

It isn't hard enough to hurt him, it's a gentle jab, but still he feigns pain, making a growl of fake agony through his teeth at me, clutching his stomach. I hit him again as I fail to keep a straight face at his antics, grinning like a school girl as our cab finally pulls up beside us.

We would do this often when we were growing up, but now, it doesn't really have that same element of innocence to it anymore. Now, it's weirdly tainted with an element of flirtation, like it's foreplay.

We're still at it in the cab on the way to the apartment. And even when we arrive at the apartment and Christian pays the fare. The driver probably thinks we're a bunch of lunatics yet, oddly enough, I cannot bring myself to care.

I'm laughing so hard my ribs are sore once the driver drives off in his cab. And when I'm fumbling around while trying to breathe again, looking for the keys to get inside the front door, Christian catches me off guard yet again.

He swoops down without warning, scooping me up over his shoulder. I accidentally squeal loudly in shocked laughter and surprise when he starts walking while carrying me up towards the path of the front door, one of his hands roaming up my skirt. I realize while holding me upside down the way he is that my skirt has fallen down over my thighs, my backside, sheer stockings, and the underwear I'm wearing no doubt exposed to anyone on the streets. It's really lucky it's dark and late with no one to see us.

"Christian, put me down!"

"Shh," he warns, his voice unsteady with restrained laughter as well. "You want to wake up your entire neighborhood?"

"Please, I need to get my keys to get inside otherwise we'll be locked out!"

He ignores me; His hand roaming around over the fabric of my panties. He pushes his hand to one side, palm over one of my buttocks, and then he clenches down with his fingers, squishing me, caressing my ass cheek. It only causes me to erupt into silly giggles even louder at how ridiculous we're being.

A flicker of a light illuminates our surroundings brightly from outside as Chris shushes me again urgently. Then I hear a door opening from where I'm angled, down past his backside, my hair floating around me. _Crap, someone's opened their door!_

"Oh. Um, Ana?" I stop breathing at the sound of Kate's voice. She sounds half-asleep, tired, and annoyed. "It's you guys that are making all of that noise?"

 _Shit, we've woken her!_

To my relief, Christian sets me down while steadying me with his arms around my waist, the pair of us still breathing loud and shallowly as I turn to look at her. She stands in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, dressed in her pajama bottoms and a slouchy tank-top. We were definitely being too loud and I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment as she blinks at us.

"Kate, I'm sorry we woke you," I tell her apologetically. "We were just fooling around."

"Yeah, _obviously_."

Shoving Christian's arms away, I start moving slowly up the path towards her, Chris on my tail. I realize she's staring at us as though she thinks we're weird, as if we're two foreign strangers she's never met before.

"Again, I'm so sorry that we woke you," I whisper sympathetically as she moves back into the hallway to let us in. "We didn't mean to."

"God, I'm sorry," she mutters, glancing behind me at Christian as he shuts the door gently. "I just... this is too weird for me." It's like I'm telling her that Christian and I are dating all over again, like at the club that night, how unfavorable her reaction was to it, to us. "I can't get used to this."

"Kate, please. I know it seems weird at first, but Christian and I... we love each other. I love him and he loves me."

"I'm sorry, but... I can't." She looks between me and Christian again with her green eyes, her voice unsteady, desperate. "I tried, but I just can't accept this, Ana. I _can't unsee_ all those years before when I came to your house for sleepovers when we were all younger. I tried but it's just too _uncomfortable_ right now!" Without another word or look at us, Kate storms past us back through the hallway to her bedroom, shutting the door behind herself.

A heartbroken, hollow sinking feeling in my chest makes me feel that we're over, Kate and I. Our friendship, everything. Something I never expected to happen between us. To other close friends naturally maybe, but never us. Never Kate and I.

 **I'm very sorry for taking so long to continue writing the story to all your dear readers out there still interested in this one. So many things have happened in real life. I've had my first ever beautiful baby girl Audrey, so it's been incredibly demanding and stressful yet so rewarding all at once. I intend to get into writing and updating all my stories again now that she's fallen into a comfortable sleeping pattern. Again, I'm sorry!**


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